To Take a Wife
by WhatisWithin
Summary: For years the Knights, Ladies, servants and common folk had begged their Lord to find a wife. For years, he did not. No one was quite sure why, though most guessed it had something to do with the mask.
1. Chapter 1

**Heyo Guys! This story is a little different than most, but I hope you like it. I'm not sure how long it will be, and updates might be a little sporadic. **

**It takes place in the medieval era, and while I know more than the average Joe about it, my knowledge is not perfect. Feel free to shoot me any corrections. (Though keep in mind that this story takes place in 1200 France specifically.)**

**There are a few inaccuracy's that I did on purpose though. France has this whole separate names for duke, lord etc. that I do not care to replicate. Partly for my own sanity, and partly because it's way more recognizable for the general audience. I also made up the lands mentioned here. Exact times may be a little flexible.**

**Other than that, feel free to shoot some suggestions for changes.**

It was in 1215 The Year of our Lord that it was decided by the Pope that the Holy land must be reclaimed once more. Several had been make before, some more successful than others. This time, however, it was decided to strike through Egypt, land of Pharaohs and riches!

Rumors spread like weeds throughout the Kingdom. This was a chance to gain fortune and glory, with the added bonus of traveling father than ten miles from ones own farm.

In fact, if half the rumors where to be believed, every common man would be a Lord, and every Lord a King. Those who were sensible expected little to nothing from the journey, or didn't join it all. Those who lacked such sense clamored to go, and dreamed of dragon hoards to be "liberated".

Few stopped to think that it the amounts of gold they imagined unearthed itself, it would be no more valuable than dirt. Fewer still imagined the possibility of dying on the journey. How would they bring the riches they won back home? Because of this general lack of common sense, quite the sizable army went to fight in 1217 for God, or gold.

As it was, the trip went poorly, and very few profited from it's failures.

One of those few, was Erik.

No one knew him by anything else, and any attempts at discovering anything else were met with stubborn silence. He joined the army at the tender age of sixteen. What he hoped to gain from it was unknown to anyone but himself. He seldom spoke, and when he did and was because a commanding officer had ordered it so.

During the army's short period of training he had taken to the sword like duck to water. He never asked questions, but still excelled in every maneuver he was taught.

Those who were kind called him thin. Those who were unkind (And there were many of them in the army) called him a skeleton. He was taller than most of the men, and much stronger than he looked. His hair was a mop black strands which he tied back with a piece of leather and golden eyes that frightened his comrades.

They did not take to him kindly, but he was stronger and smarter than most of them, it only took three weeks for them to learn to leave him to himself.

Despite this, or perhaps because of it. He was set to command over thirty men in 1219 when most of them were ten years his senior. They learned to trust him to keep them alive in what they now believed to be the worst decision in their lives.

One person took particular notice of him during his small success. He was known as Giovanni. Knighted by the Pope for his great skill, and then sent to assist with the Crusade. Despite his time being taken up of commanding five hundred men, he took Erik under his wing.

He taught Erik the finer points of swordsmanship, and basic battle strategy. A year into this arrangement, Giovanni fell in battle, his last request was that Erik take his post. It was granted.

A commander over five hundred men gave Erik the power to save the King of Hungary (Who led the crusade.) later in battle. He was so grateful that he promised Erik a handsome sum once he returned to Europe, and then knighted him. In 1221 they retreated back to Europe and Erik was paid. He returned to France where he offered his service to the King there. It was accepted, and for the next five years he fought so well that the King gave him the title of a Duke, along with a choice of land.

To the King's surprise, he chose the Black Lands.

They were a large swath of lands against the sea with nothing but infertile dark rocky hills that allowed little to grow but weeds. There were no forests, no chance of a good crop. A century before, a foolish lord had built a castle out of those dark stones and had gone bankrupt upon it's finish. No one had lived there for eighty years, it was naught but dusty hallways and a few collapsed towers.

The King knew this and tried to dissuade him, but Erik was firm. The King eventually gave him what he wished.

Once there, he swiftly took control of the farms and villages that surrounded it and began hiring stone masons and builders to restore the castle to it's former glory. This took three years, and when it was finished he filled it with furniture. Then he hired servants to care for the land, cooks to feed them and horses and everything that he might need.

Then, with his moneybag feeling light, he bought flocks of sheep and turned them loose in those rocky hills with scads of young lads to watch them. There, with no competition for food, and no forests to hide bears and wolves, they flourished on the weeds that grew there and produced the best wool in France. This Erik sold to Italy, where it was spun and woven into fabrics all the colors of the rainbow and sold back to France.

Unhappy with this arrangement after three years, he emptied his pockets again and built the largest fabric facility in France. This attracted the finest dyers and spinners from France whom he tasked with creating wool as fine as Italy's. They succeeded for the most part, and without shipping costs to worry about, it was much cheaper than Italy.

In addition, he cultivated the best of his land and grew the toughest of barley. This was sold for cheap to anyone that wished for fodder for their animals.

These two decisions made him very rich, and so when the Earl south of him went bankrupt (Partly due to three bad years of weather, but mostly because of his five spoiled daughters.), Erik was happy to take the lands the Earl could not afford to keep off his hands.

While these lands were rocky, they were much better than his own. He cheerfully planted wheat, beans and peas. In addition he planted a sizable amount of grape vines and built a building to turn it to wine.

All of these improvements eliminated the need to import much of his supplies, while being able to sell the excess.

He became known as a great lover of the arts, so artists, musicians and sculptures flocked to his court. Few were turned away.

Within fifteen years he had turned the desolate Black Lands into the most prosperous in the Kingdom. He owned as much land as the King and was almost as rich as him. If it had been anyone other than Erik, the King might have been worried. Erik the Black (As he began to be known as.) was loyal to a fault, any enemy of the King was an enemy of his. Few dared cross the rich and powerful Duke Erik.

So the King did not curb his profits, and he grew steadily richer and more successful. He might have continued in this way till the end of his days if it weren't for the issue of an heir.

* * *

Erik's servants respected their Lord. Though he seemed to be touched in the head during his first few years, with all his talk of improvements and innovation, he'd soon proved himself as being a worthy leader. He was fair in payment, judgement and expectations. They knew they could trust him to bring prosperity.

So when five years passed and he did not marry, and he did not have an heir, they didn't question it. After seven or eight years, they began to wonder, after ten they began to be fearful.

They had reason to be worried, Erik was new blood. There were no cousins, brothers or nephews to take his place should he die without an heir. There were even less sisters, aunts and nieces to marry to a suitable heir. He had no family, and no one to take his placed once he passed. Four and thirty and no wife. If he died, what would happen to their newly orderly and comfortable lives? They began to bemoan his lack of a wife, and begged his manservant to bring up the topic so as to encourage him to procure such a thing.

For the most part Erik ignored their woes, though it was said that he told his manservant that he had no use for the "quacking idiots that graced their attentions on every unsuspecting man in court."

This did nothing to raise their spirits. They all became so high strung that every time Erik so much as sneezed the nearest servants would cross themselves and begin praying in earnest.

Despite these thoughtful gestures, it did not encourage Erik to give in to their desires. Nor did he enlighten them on why he did not take a wife, though most guessed it had something to do with the mask.

It was widely known that The Baron Erik of the Black Lands wore a mask. Why was the question of many, theory's ranged from his being wounded during the crusade to the idea that he was a fairy that would perish if his face touched the sun. (The later being cooked up by an Irishman after drinking many a gallon of wine.)

Fairy or not, he was never seen without it. Even his manservant did not dare enter his bedroom until his master had invited him.

It was the mask that his servants blamed for his lack of a wife. Few woman dared approach him when his eyes glared at them behind it. There was something to be said for the idea that he wore the mask for this sole purpose.

And so after fifteen years the Knights, Lady's, servants and common folk despaired of him ever having a son when the letter came from the King, kindly inviting Erik to the Christmas celebrations at his castle, and nigh on ordering him to find a wife while he was there.

**So that's a rap. This was very stressful to write as I accidentally deleted everything I had about 3/4 my way through writing it, so I had to write it again. But I'm glad it's done now.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I absolutely do mean to continue with this story. Don't worry, I was just relieved that that specific chapter was done! XD It's probably gonna be 10 ishy or more chapters.(?) And I do mean to write them all.**

"My Lord?"

Erik hands tightened on the reigns, his gaze focused on the castle just over the horizon.

"My Lord."

He shook his head, turning to look at Nadir. "Yes?"

Nadir looked at him quizzically. "If we are to reach the castle we must ride there."

Erik shrugged, kicking his weary horse into a walk. The two servants and three soldiers he had brought with him glanced at each other. It wasn't often that he was so distracted.

Nadir himself wasn't surprised, he was the only one that knew of the King's request to Erik. Choosing a wife was not a choice to be made lightly in the best of circumstances, and Erik's was hardly that.

Nadir considered himself Erik's best, and only friend. Their friendship had been long formed through battle time and time again. They had first met just after Erik's knighthood. Nadir, a knight of sorts from his own land, had been tasked down with hunting a man for his government from the east. Converted to Christianity by a brave missionary five years before and thoroughly tired of the position though he'd only had it for a year, he agreed to teach Erik Ayyubid tactics in exchange for the promise that he might return to Europe with him.

Erik had agreed. Nadir had been by the side of his friend for almost twenty years, free from a position he had never wanted.

After Erik had settled his new land, he'd taken to wife a woman known as Antoinette Giry. She'd been married before, and had a small girl named Marguerite whom Nadir had taken in as his own. Since then they'd had three more children, all boys, kept in line by their eldest sister.

Smiling softly as the castle grew steadily closer, Nadir smiled wistfully and wondered what she was doing now. She was in charge of the castle, managing dinner and the cleaning of the building, along with the servants. She ruled with a strict but kind hand, and he loved her for it.

He could only hope that Erik would find such a wife, he deserved one.

Kicking his horse, he rode up to Erik. "Just think," he teased. "Your future wife could be in there now, combing her hair, embroidering."

Erik's gloved hands were tight on the reigns. "I'd rather fight the English." He said, his voice strained, but quiet.

"Well, marriage isn't as bad as that." Nadir sat back in his saddle, chuckling. "Some would say it's quite nice. All those poems were written for a reason, you know."

"It isn't the same."

Nadir backed off, Erik's voice warning him that he did not want for such frivolities.

"In all seriousness my friend, I think it would do you good to take a wife." Erik didn't seem to reply, in fact, he seemed to hunch over her saddle. Very uncharacteristic of him.

"Why would anyone want to marry me?" He snapped.

"Do not underestimate your self worth." Nadir's voice was firm. "You can be very charming when you wish to be. Come out from behind that black stone wall of yours."

Erik muttered something that Nadir doubted was complementary and set off at a trot ahead of him. Nadir shrugged his shoulders. He had tried. There was very little Erik hated more than woman, he barely tolerated Antoinette, let alone a woman he might be expected to woo, to marry, and to love.

Nadir only hoped that somewhere in those stone walls there was a woman that would suit him well.

* * *

Erik had never enjoyed parties in the best of situations, and after a week of celebrations that would lead almost into the morning, he positively detested them with every fiber of his being.

Somehow, word must have gotten out that he was searching for a wife because during each one at least three separate woman would attach themselves to him. He could defeat a man in single combat in a matter of minutes, but it would often take hours to escape their fluttering eyes and exposed bosoms.

He couldn't dance with them. (He hadn't any practice.) He was bored to death by their talk. (He had no passion in the cuts of dresses, whom was courting whom and the decor.) And he couldn't eat. (For obvious reasons.)

Dinner was always awkward, him avoiding the empty plate in front of him and the glass of wine set by him. The King seemed to try to seat him next to woman who might be more suited to him. But they either avoided him completely, engaged in awkward conversation while avoiding his face, or say nothing and stare unashamed at the mask.

There was one young woman, not a day over seventeen, he guessed, that had tried. She had probed to find his interest, then discussed what little she knew about them with him. But at the end of the dinner she had informed him quietly that while she did not mind his company, she did not wish to marry him. He had nodded, and said he understood.

Of course he understood, and yet it still stung a little. If only he could be more easy going with people, if only he did not have to wear a mask.

By the end of the two weeks, he had weeded out an alarming amount of widows, young woman and even one married woman, but no wife. He knew the King would be displeased, the thought made him uncomfortable. And yet he could not make himself marry one of the idiots who had presented themselves to him, and he would not make one of the indifferent woman marry him.

So, with only one more night to go, he decided that he would try his hardest to behave well, and that the first woman that presented himself to him he would spend the rest of the night with.

As it happened, it ended up being the worst of them all. A Spanish lady who was visiting with her her and French mother. She had already tried three times to present herself to him, despite each time he forcibly sending her away. Her name was Carlotta, and she was the one who talked the loudest, and had her dresses cut the lowest.

Still, he bit his tongue and recited Homer in his head when her drabble became too much for him, and he let her lead him wherever she wished about the room. When she wanted to dance he did his best to follow along with the steps. She was an excellent dancer, despite her other shortcomings, and this helped his stumbling.

Eventually she complained that she was hot and dragged him outside the the gardens.

He should have been paying better attention, after all, they were nearly alone now. He should have guessed that she would have tired such a thing. But he was too far into him own stupid self to notice the fingers at the back of his head, and by the time he did, it was too late.

His hands went up just as she began to scream. He dropped to the ground, searching frantically with one hand. Eventually he felt the cold porcelain that covered his face, unbroken by the soft grass, he could hear Carlotta still screaming hysterically while his hands fumbled again and again with the ties.

_Got to get away, got to get AWAY!_

He felt a hand on his shoulder, but he shoved it away. Giving up on the ties he ran through the gardens, his deepest instinct overcoming him.

_GET AWAY!_

Someone had seen his face, and now he had to leave. If he did not, he would driven out, or captured to go through ritual after ritual to remove the demon from his face. It was not safe, he had to get away.

He ran through the dining room, the crowd gasped as he stumbled on trains and shoved mercilessly into any who came in his way. They parted for him, their shocked faces turning to blurs as he sped away. Somewhere behind him he could still hear her screaming.

Up the stairs, to his room. He must get to his room.

Somehow he found himself in front of his door, he barreled through it, shutting and setting the iron bolt in.

He tossed the mask on the table, ignoring the unlit candle on the table he took out a bag and began searching for what he would need. A spare change of clothes foudn themselves in the bag, a spare mask he had brought.

He changed from the frivolous costume that he had worn tonight into clothing barely a step up from a farmers. A heavy cloak went about his shoulders. His hands had stopped shaking, he took the mask from his bed and managed to tie it back round his head.

Then he fled, taking his horse he rode away. The three gates of the castle had been opened to allow party goers to come and leave unhindered. He shot through each one, his hands tight at the reigns, his clock streaming behind him into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Yeah, no Christine at the party. ;) Here she is-**

Christine hadn't expected more visitors until a few days after Christmas celebrations, but here he was.

Past years had taught her to expect a sudden income of visitors during the weeks before Christmas celebrations, a break while they all visited their families and friends, and then another onslaught the month after that as people returned home.

Merchant, Lord, Baron, Christine took them all. Giving them comfortable and clean rooms. She was the most respected inn keeper, and this brought her customers. Fair rates, good food and knowledge that your rings wouldn't disappear overnight.

Lady Valerius wouldn't approve of her small castle being turned into an inn, but her mind was addled with age, she was too ill to notice.

It was the only way Christine could have made a living, with the crops failing again and again, and the sickness that had killed half the calves in their herd. She'd first gotten the idea when three noble families had come to her, asking to stay the night. The local inn was small and dirty, full of thieves. It was not a fit place to stay.

And so Christine had pooled what little savings she had left and began to charge for a night. A silver coin per person, gold if they had a horse. They had only been open for two years but their reputation had spread, and now they received steady business most of the year.

This gave Christine the money to fix the deteriorating parts of the castle and to make sure that every servant had a portion of cheese next to their bowls of porridge.

That man's arrival had been a surprise. She had been depending on the gap between the two rush times to scrub down the whole castle and wash the bedclothes besides. Poor Mary had just given birth (To a healthy strong boy, despite it coming month early.) and was still too weak to work, so they were short a hand and behind schedule when he came riding in.

So when Christine was instructing their two stable boys where to move the hay so they could clean the loft, she was rather shocked to see him sitting there on his horse.

His clothes weren't very noble, simple browns and greens that anyone could have worn. But he held himself up in his saddle, his confidence in himself gave his noble blood away, as did the sword at his side. The hilt of it made of gold.

She might have thought him a thief who had murdered a Duke if it weren't for the mask.

Because of the many people that stayed and went, Christine knew of the Duke Erik. The man who wore a mask to hide his face, the man who had as much land as the King, and was as rich as him, and yet was loyal. Yes, she knew him. So she had pointed vaguely where the hay was to go and grasped one of the stable boys by the ear to bring him with her to greet the man.

She came up to the Duke and curtsied, keeping her voice light and pleasant. "Do you require anything my Lord?" The stable boy next to her hastily bowed.

The Duke surveyed them both through his mask. Christine looked up into his eyes, blinking in surprise when she saw they were a golden hue, like a cats. He looked fist at her, then the boy next to her. He dismounted, handing the reigns of his horse to the stable boy.

"I was told this was the only respectable place to house in for a night." He said. Christine nodded, looking up to him. He was very tall, at least a hand or so taller than herself.

"That is correct." She replied. "It would be a gold coin for the night's stay."

He hesitated. "The inn would take it for less." He warned.

Christine held out her hand and let her eyes sparkle at him, she was used to this argument. "Ah, but we include all meals, and we store, curry and feed your horse as well. And if you want a bath, we can give it to you, free of charge. If you want your saddle cleaned, we will clean it for you and leave the leather shining besides."

The man reached up to touch his head with a gloved hand, Christine followed it to see his black hair dusted brown by dirt. "Very well." He said, he reached into a pocket by his side, pulled out a coin and dropped it into her hand. It was done with such ease that she knew he was used to giving away money. He looked about the courtyard, people were running every which way, cleaning, carrying and shouting. "You seem busy."

"We're cleaning the castle." Christine explained, gesturing for Andre to take the Duke's bag. "There's usually a lull in customers during the holidays, we were taking advantage of it. We weren't expected customers until a few days from now, but we have a good clean room ready for you." She added.

He nodded. "And my room?"

"Follow me."

She guided him up the stairs to their finest and largest room. (That thankfully, had already been purged of the dirt that had come with their many visitors and their things replaced.) Andre followed behind them with the Duke's satchel.

Christine wondered as they walked why he was traveling alone. He must be very confident in his skills to do so, most Duke's traveled in groups. But then- she glanced at his plain worker clothing. Perhaps that was why he was dressed so poorly, so that none would rob him for his ransom.

She led him to one of the towers, and opened the door. It was a two room suite, and had once been Lord Valerous's, but it was their finest room now.

"You've got an entrance room and a bedroom." Chrisitne explained. He stepped inside, too late, Christine realized the wood pile for the fire was empty. "Andre, drop off the Lord's bag and get him some wood for a fire, it get's cold at night."

Andre followed her orders, after he left Christine continued into her well recited piece. "We have breakfast in the dining hall at dawn, as it is most convenient for travelers. But we'll bring your meals up any time you like. If you would like a bath, let us know and we can draw and heat the water for you. If you have any needs, simply let us know."

For some reason he found this funny, giving a harsh sort of laugh. "I doubt you could give me what I truly need." He said, but he shrugged his shoulders back. "But I appreciate the offer, thank you."

She curtsied to his back and turned away back down the hallway. As she made her way down the stairs Andre came staggering up with a armful of wood. He grinned at her. "How much did you charge?"

"A gold coin, same as usual." Christine said crisply.

He frowned. "Hey, he could afford to give away more, he's the richest man in France!"

Christine shook her head. "If we did that, we couldn't hold our trustworthy reputation."

"Ain't nothin wrong for charging more for the better room."

Christine laughed. "You can ask him then. I'm going back to work."

* * *

She spent the rest of the afternoon guiding the cleaning and keeping Mary in bed. She insisted that she was well enough to work, but Christine knew better. Her husband, Victor, told her that she would only be allowed to walk the mile to church the next day to have their child blessed and she would need the rest.

Lady Valerius wasn't feeling well, she claimed, she had decided to spend the day in bed. Christine paid her a visit when she had a breath to spare. After dark, everyone went inside the eat. A delicious thick stew was being fed, Christine took a bowl and went upstairs to her office.

Even with the added income of the visitors, Christine was careful to manage nearly every copper that they spent. They couldn't afford to waste money if everyone was to eat. But she hadn't opened her books in weeks, it needed badly to done.

As she opened her book keeping books, she thought of the ease in which The Duke had handed over the coin. What would it be like to have so much money you need never pour over books before every purchase? Christine sat back in her chair, then grasped her bowl to eat from it for a few moments.

Her mind stayed on the Duke. His eyes... She chewed on a piece of meat thoughtfully. She'd never seen anyone with yellow eyes before, and she'd seen many people.

Though she was originally from Sweden, when her mother died her father had sold their small and joined a preforming group. They had wandered with them near everywhere, she'd met someone with violet eyes, and one with the clearest blue eyes that seemed to shine in their own right. But never the yellow gold that his had. She wondered if he'd had them since birth, or maybe something turned them that color. She'd heard of an illness that turned the whites of your eyes yellow, but not the pupils themselves.

She set down her bowl, sat back and lit a candle, setting to work.

An hour had passed, likely more before her concentration was broken again. A gold coin was tossed onto her desk, dancing across the page she was writing on. Startled, she looked up and saw the yellow eyes of the duke peering through his mask at her.

"Did Andre convince you to pay more for the room?" Christine asked, she picked up the coin and held it out to him. "You don't have to truly, I'm the one if charge here. One gold coin."

He chuckled, it's richness filling Christine the hot soup she had been eating. "It's for tomorrow. It's the Lord's day, I shan't be traveling."

Her hand stayed were it was, Christine smiled faintly.

"We don't charge for Sundays."

"Then it's a gift." He informed her, before bowing slightly and turning to leave.

Christine looked at where he stood for a moment, momentarily stunned. She laughed softly, before turning her pages to mark the additional income.


	4. Chapter 4

**Woo! Chapter 4, here we come.**

Christine hadn't expected much interaction with their visitor after that moment. Most kept to themselves, speaking with their family or those they brought with them during their travels.

And yet the next morning, dressed in her better dress and with her head covered, he asked her to show him the way to the church. She agreed, and they spent the time walking there talking stiffly of the various topics.

Normally Christine would walk to church with the others, laughing and talking along the way. But with the Duke by her side her friends hurried ahead and lagged behind, keeping their heads bowed to the ground. It wasn't his fault, not truly, but she felt a little sting of resentment at him away. She resolved to pray for forgiveness while at Church.

Once they arrived at the church, many of the benches were full, both The Duke and Christine were forced to sit at the very back, though not next to each other.

Try as she might, she found it difficult to focus throughout the meeting. It did not surprise her that this distraction was for the most part because of _him._ Throughout the meeting he would clench his fists, or roll his eyes at some statement. It shocked her how rude he was, even if he seemed to know the material well.

It took some time for her to learn to ignore his actions. It struck her suddenly during a prayer that he might be lonely. Who knew how long he had been traveling, perhaps she was the closed thing to noble folk he had seen in weeks. Lady Valerius had always taught the woman closest to her how to act, and thus she knew the mannerisms of a Lady, even if she wasn't one of them.

It came to her that he might think that she was a Lady. She had never told him she wasn't, perhaps he assumed she was. Quickly she bowed her head and prayed. _Lord forgive me for deceiving me if that is what has come of_ _this_._ I swear I will tell as soon as opportunity allows._ After Mass, she walked out the door, dropping a coin into the poor box as was her Christian duty, behind her. The Duke Erik dropped several gold coins.

She walked quickly, searching the crowd for her friends that might join them. After all, The Duke could find his way back now. But before she could join them, he had joined her side.

They began the walk back to the castle, Christine telling herself fiercely was this was as good as any other time to tell him her station. "Perhaps you should not walk with me." She told him, gently. His face, having before looked resolutely forward, turned quickly to face her.

"Why should I not?" He asked.

Christine hesitated. "I have no noble blood." She confessed quickly. "I'm not even a lady. I am common folk."

He turned back to look at the path ahead of them, he seemed to be thinking, though she couldn't be sure with the mask.

"I suspected as much, though I wasn't sure." He informed her. "I have no qualms about not walking with er 'common folk' as you put it. It does not offend me."

Relief filled Christine. They walked in silence for a moment, the silence between them so intense that Christine spoke again.

"Do you not enjoy Mass?" She questioned.

He stumbled in his steps, but recovered quickly. "Pardon?"

Christine laughed. "In Mass, I saw you, all rolling your eyes and looking as if the devil had come to eat you. What is it about it that vexes you so?"

"I- ah." His thin, still gloved hand reached up to touch the mask, it was done so naturally that Christine wondered if he knew he was doing it at all. "I do not have, well. I have not had the best relationship with the church in some time."

He glanced at her, and must have noticed the fearful look on her face, for he quickly went on. "I am a God fearing man." He remeasured her. "And I strive to follow the laws of the Church as best I can, and I read and know the Bible, but-" He hesitated. "Man is unperfect." He said slowly. "And I believe that man's interpretation of the word of God is often flawed."

Christine looked at him in mild surprise. "You read Latin, then?"

"Yes, an old mentor of mine taught me." He heaved a great sigh, his hands clasped behind his back. "He was a knight for the Church, perhaps the most pious man I have ever met. He taught me many things, Latin only being a few of them."

Christine nodded.

They spent the rest of the journey in small talk, Christine telling him the story of one of the stable boys that had stolen a plate of pastry's, eating them all himself while hiding in the hayloft.

"How did you punish him?" He asked, and once again his eyes look intently at hers.

"Well, he threw up shortly thereafter, and his stomach troubled him for days." Christine laughed at the memory. "I considered that punishment enough."

The Duke Erik nodded. "It does seem fitting."

They strolled into the small courtyard their small fortress contained. They stood for a few moments, and he looked at her so intently Christine felt uncomfortable. She excused herself and left him alone in the entryway.

* * *

The Lady Valerius had once been one of the most revered lady in Baron Coard lands. Married to the Knight Valerius, she had run her household with a skillful hand. She was known for her love of music, as such, Christine and her father had come to grace her halls many times.

She had taken a liking to Christine, taking the girl under wing and teaching her the ways of the court. Once or twice she had even asked Christine's father if she could take her in as her own daughter. The Lady had given birth to many children, but none of them had lived passed a few days. It was natural that she was taken in by the rosy cheeked, angel voiced Christine.

Her father had refused, he wanted to keep Christine close to him, as she was all he had left of his wife. For years they had traveled all over France, and when her father had passed away, Christine had used their meager savings to travel to Lady Valerius's estate once again.

By now the Knight Valerius had passed away, leaving Lady Valerius to run the estate as she pleased. Christine had learned under her how to read and write, and how to act, and how to speak. She had been the only mother Christine had ever known.

It was when Chrisitine was twenty that her mind began to leave her. At first it was small, what day of the week it was, where she put her favorite dress. But it grew worse and worse.

Despite that it had been so for almost three years, it still frightened Christine when she looked into her adopted mother's eyes, and they didn't seem to recognize her.

They didn't know her now, when she looked into them that Sunday afternoon. Her wrinkled face frowned when she saw her.

"Who are you?" She asked wearily.

"One of your... maidservants. Mama- Lady Valerius." Christine sat on the bed. "I was wondering how you were feeling today. Is your headache better?" She reached for the aged hand to give it a squeeze.

"Yes- yes it is a little better." The Lady wheezed, coughed a little. Suddenly her eyes focused on Christine and suddenly they grew a little sharper. "Why- your the little girl that used to come to sing for me." She whispered.

"Yes, I am."

Lady Valerius shook her head. "My my, you've grown, you'll find a good husband."

Christine bit her tongue. She was eight and twenty, far too old to be married, a spinster. She had accepted long ago that she would never marry.

"Will you sing for me?"

Christine nodded. "Of course." She sat back, straightened her shoulders and began to sing a hymn. It was Sunday after all.

Almost immediately Lady Valerius gave a sigh, leaning back into the pillows, a smile curling at her lips. Christine continued to sing as she stood, reaching for a bowl of water, she began to wash Her Ladyship's face with the cool water, still singing softly.

Lady Valerius fell asleep within a half hour. Christine watched her for a few moments, then stood to leave.

When she left the room, she was surprised to see The Duke Erik waiting outside. He had been leaning against the wall, his back facing the door, when she opened it, he spun round.

Christine jumped at his sudden movement, then wondered if he was ill. He seemed transfixed upon her, his eyes large and unblinking. He drew heavy breaths, and his hand reached out to snatch her own.

"Where you the one singing?" He demanded.

Christine blinked. "Y-yes. Yes I was. To Lady Valerius-" She shook her hand free from his grasp. "Are you ill?"

"I- no. No. I'm never ill." His hand went up and adjusted his mask. "Your voice, it's beautiful."

"I- thank you." Christine gave a small curtsy. "Good day my Lord. I must be going." She tried to step around him, but his hand caught hers again, and he knelt.

"Christine, please. Let me ask for the honor-"

Suddenly realizing what he was doing, she jerked her hand away. "Are you asking me to marry you?" She demanded.

"Yes." He seemed less crazed now, but there was a determination in his eyes that made her worry. "You will have everything, every luxury there is-"

"I am eight and twenty and I haven't a copper in my dowry." She snapped, taking a step back. "What are thinking? You are a grand Duke, the richest man in the Kingdom! Our marriage wouldn't be legal-"

"I have not a drop of royal blood in my veins, I made my own title." He insisted. "I need only ask the King, he-"

"Stop." She said, holding up a finger. "I do not think this is the time for hasty proposals. I-" She looked behind her, there was no one in the corridor, thank the Holy Mother. "Let us go to my office." She finally said, looking back to Erik, who still knelt on the floor. "Then we shall speak of this rationally."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hee hee hee! Methinks Erik much to hasty! ;)**

Continuing to argue with him in her office didn't seem to help matters much. He continued to be frustratingly calm and unmoved by her arguments in private. She did, however, acquire a decent reason why he proposed directly to her.

"The King has ordered me to marry."

Christine frowned. "Has he?"

He seemed grim now. "I was supposed to choose a wife at the Christmas celebrations, it went... poorly." His hand went up to gesture to his mask, implying why it hadn't gone so well.

Christine laughed, crossing her arms. "I'm surprised there weren't more. Even with- well. You're very rich."

He chuckled with her. "Oh there were many contenders, and they were all very pretty, yes. But they were vain, mindless brats that threw themselves on my arm. Any marriage will be uncomfortable enough for a man like me. I don't want the added stress of having a wife with the emotional subtly of a puddle."

Her lips pursed together. "So I am your last resort."

He leaned forward. "No, you are merely the only woman I have met that I could imagine some semblance of a life with."

"Glorious." Christine said dryly. "I am honored."

He shrugged. "I need a wife, and an heir."

"And why should I marry you?"

"I have money, and power." He said, his voice so quiet she could barely hear it. "Will one of them obtain something you want?" This was an excellent question, two years ago, the answer would have been yes. Now, they were scraping by, even if they did go to bed hungry once in a while.

But there was Mama Valerius...

They couldn't afford to have someone nurse her around the clock, and she needed it. She was prone to wandering, once she had nearly made it outside of the castle. She was prone to headaches, and they couldn't afford the tonics that would ease them.

She admitted. "Yes, yes there is."

The Duke leaned foreward. "Well?"

"A nursemaid, for my Lady." Christine said quietly. "And medicine, for her headaches."

He seemed surprised. "Really?"

She nodded.

"You must be very fond of her."

"She treated me as her own daughter. She was the only mother I knew."

"Ah, I understand."

Christine sat back in her chair, thinking for a moment. "What is it about me that made you... decide to propose?" She asked, almost afraid of the answer.

His hands tightened in his lap, and his head cocked to one side. "You are resourceful, and intelligent, and kind. You talked kindly to me, even if you would have preferred to walk with your friends."

She could feel her cheeks burning. "It's was only simple courtesy."

"You would be surprised how many think it no longer necessary when your customer does not wear a mask. I've been turned out of most inns in my travels here because of it, most didn't believe I was who I said I was." He hand went up to touch his mask again. "Now, will you marry me?"

"It still isn't legal." She insisted, setting her elbows on her desk. "You are a Duke, you were still given a title by the King even if you have no noble blood. I cannot marry you legally."

"We can with permission from the King." The Duke explained. "I'm sure he wouldn't object, considering the circumstances."

"I see."

He leaned forward. "Well, do you accept?"

Christine hesitated. "I-" She sighed. "I don't know. I- we're doing well enough here. And business is only likely to grow, even if I refused... I think I could manage." She smiled a little.

"Of course." His voice sounded hurt behind the mask. She tried not to feel too guilty. "I see."

"I've only known you for a few days, and I have no mentor to rely on to know if you be a good husband."

He hands clasped in his lap. "How so?"

"What?"

"What would you want in a husband?"

"I- I wouldn't want him to be cruel. I'd want him to respect my opinion, and to listen to it." She finally said after a moments thought. "I would be the only woman he would have, I don't want any mistresses."

He nodded. "I can promise you all of that." He said quickly.

"Words are easy." Christine said weakly. "Just wait until five years from now, when you still have no son and you have grown tired of me. Your eyes will turn then."

"I don't want a woman to bed with." His voice was harsh. "If I'd wanted that, I'd have taken one of the woman in court."

"You want an heir. What if I do not provide you with one? I am eight and twenty, I would be much older than most brides."

"I am nine and thirty." The duke answered smoothly. "If we do not have a son than I will pass it to one of the sons of a good friend of mine. Nadir, he is like a brother to me. Now for the last time, do you accept my proposal?"

Christine hesitated. "I- give me a day. I- it is such large decision, if you understand my meaning."

He nodded stiffly. "Of course." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another gold coin before tossing it onto her table. "I will be staying another day then."

* * *

Erik did not make decisions lightly. He had learned early in life that hasty decisions led to failures, and failures led to pain. Everything had to be planned in advance. Risks had to be calculated. Circumstances to assessed. Possibly the largest position he had ever had to make was to choose a wife, and that decision had been the hastiest he had ever made.

And yet, after the haze that her voice brought had left him, he realized how advantages having a wife like her would be. She was used to hard work, and had withstood his company. She had the organizational skills to rival Madame Girys, and she was kind.

She did not know it, but he had gone to look over his horse the first evening, when he heard a child's cry.

After investigating, he found Christine comforting one of the girls, who cried that her mother had no time for her after giving birth. Christine had behaved quite well, comforting the child, telling her that though Mary would likely need time with the baby, she would always love her daughter.

This also proved that she was good with children, a skill he was determined to have in a mother. He would not have his child condemned to the hate he had had when he was a child.

This had all rolled through his head while they had walked to her office, it had only solidified his decision.

He wasn't surprised at her arguments, and yet he had grown increasingly worried the more she asked. She did not warm to the idea, in fact she only seemed more nervous and less likely to accept his proposal. He didn't blame her, but he needed a wife, and she was the only woman he had genuinely _wanted_ to marry.

As the night passed on, however, it seemed more and more unlikely to ever marry him. Why should she? She knew nothing of him but rumors, he wore a mask, he was old.

The next morning, while he ate alone in his room, the knock on his door made him jump. He fumbled with the ties on his mask, nearly tripping over his chair to get to the door.

What would she answer? His hands trembled as they pushed the door open. Oh, Saint Mary let her say yes let her say- He froze at the person there instead.

Nadir's brown face smiled deeply at the sight of Erik. "Well, we've finally caught up to you my friend." He said lightly. "You gave us quite the scare, running off like that."

**Shortish chapter. *shrugs* that's just how it be. Anyhoo. The conversation between Christine and Erik was a PAIN because I couldn't describe Erik's face. I also didn't expect to get in a chapter today, but here we are. Yay!**


	6. Chapter 6

It seemed that mass panic had ensued after Erik had left the castle, for Nadir had not only brought the servants and knights that Erik had taken originally, but half the Kings Guard, and the King himself.

Christine handled it all wonderfully. She ran around the courtyard, half a dozen men and boys following after her, taking bags and satchels to carry to rooms. She curtsies and murmured her how do you dos while accepting at least a dozen gold coins into her hands. His heart sunk, but she deserved the gold for all the trouble he was causing.

The King came to him, leaning heavily against his stick, the top carved into a some beast covered by the Kings hand. The King clapped his hand against Erik's shoulder, his wrinkled hand still holding him tight and strong. "I'm glad to see you well Erik. I was afraid that you were lost to us."

Erik bowed stiffly. "I am never lost from being in your service my King." He said. "You needn't have worried."

"I sent that girl home." The King said, gesturing for them to begin to walk across the courtyard. "I'm sorry I put so much pressure on you, but you must be married soon. An heir is essential to stability in a household. I should know." He sighed. "Poor Elizabeth, she tried her best, six daughters and three miscarriages. All of them pretty and clever, but no son that lasted more than a day."

"I know my Lord." Erik said quietly, the girl he had sat with and talked with half way through the parties, she had been the King's own daughter. No doubt the King hoped that Erik would marry the remainder of his two single daughters.

"Excuse me, your majesty?"

They both turned to see Christine smiling pleasantly at the both of them. She curtsied low to the King and stood, resuming her business stature. "Your Majesty, I am honored to have you under my roof. Please feel welcome to satisfy yourself under my roof, however, this is an inn, of sorts-"

"Ah, yes. The price, one gold coin was it?" The King chuckled as he pressed the coin in her hand. Christine curtsied again and went off to take care of something else.

Erik watched to go, her wooden soles thumping against the dirt courtyard, the dirty, worn folds of her dress swaying from side to side. There was a thin band on her hand, but it was iron. Her hands were rough, despite being small. He was suddenly struck how beautiful she would look in a colorful dress of wool, with jewels adorning her throat.

"I have made a proposal to a woman." Erik said slowly, turning to look at the King once more.

He jumped "Have you? With whom? Was it Fleur?"

Erik nodded towards Christine, who was directing where a smaller trunk and three bags should go. Behind them, the Lieutenant of the King's guard watched carefully to make sure that nothing was stolen.

"Her?" The King grasped his stick and squinted to examine Christine better. "Does she even have royal blood?"

"No." Erik said quietly. "But neither do I."

"Are you sure?" The King frowned. "Did she accept?"

"She told me to allow a day to consider her feelings on the subject." Erik said. "I like her. She is very organized, intelligent, and kind."

The sharp look the King gave him at the last word made Erik shift uncomfortably. "Yes, kindness is very important in marriage." He sighed. "I suppose no one else will do?"

"If she accepts my proposal, I wish to marry her. Only, as she has no noble blood, I would require your permission." Erik replied stiffly. He didn't think he'd ever want to try to marry again if Christine refused him. He was thoroughly sick of the whole business.

"Ah, I see." The King shifted to put his weight on his other side.

"Will you give permission?" Erik asked. It was the other risk of his plan, and he hoped that it would work as he had hoped. "I am willing to pay much for the right to marry her."

The King looked at Christine, his eyes sharp in the way he examined her. "Very well." He said quietly. "I do, if she accepts, call on me and I'll write up the official document."

And one of the large weights that Erik felt off his shoulders lifted.

* * *

Erik didn't see Christine again until that evening. He had spent hours telling first Nadir, then the King's lieutenant, and finally the King himself what had happened that night, and what had happened afterwards.

By the time he was finished, he was thoroughly sick of the human race. He stole away from the castle, walking along the path to the church, for no other reason than it was there.

When he arrived at the church, only a few minutes later, he examined it carefully. He knew much of architecture after rebuilding his home castle. This wooden building had near nothing to it's name. It had a glass window, but it was not covered. The surrounding land had numerous apple trees, but the building itself was made of wood, it did not even have a stone foundation.

How tiny and insignificant it was, compared to the large cathedrals he had seen in Rome, and the large stone building he had in his own lands.

And yet, there was a peace here, that he did not know there. Perhaps it was the gentle wind as that shook the heavy branches of the trees.

He opened the door inside the building, shutting it quietly behind him. He looked down the rows of the old benches, and was surprised to see Christine kneeling before the cross. If he listened carefully, he could hear her reciting prayers.

Erik walked carefully down the aisle before sitting in the front seat of the church. The bench creaked under him, Christine turned her head. When she saw him she gave him a small small before returning to her worship.

It was peaceful, with the birds chirping outside, and her prayers echoing around the room.

After a few minutes, the door to the side of the church opened, the priest from yesterday walked inside. At the side of Erik, he paused to look at him for a moment, but continued on his way.

He was a large man, tall, likely could have made a good knight if he had chosen that path. He walked to Christine and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do you require anything?" He asked gently.

Christine turned to look at him. "Father, if I may, could you perhaps read the bible to me?"

"Of course, my child."

Christine sat at the bench aside from Erik, her hands laying in her lap.

The Priest, having fetched a copy of the bible, set it down. "Do you have any particular preference?" He asked gently.

Christine shook her head. The Priest nodded and began to read, his deep voice rang around the room easily, Erik had scoffed his sermon, but he read the bible well, and Erik listened carefully.

They must have stayed there, listening to him speak the words of the prophets before Christine stood and curtsied. "Thank you Father, that will be all."

"Bless you my child."

Christine nodded and turned to leave, Erik followed her carefully. Outside, they walked together down the dirt path. A wagon slowly creaked by passed them, an ox slowly pulling the cart of hay.

The sun was nearly setting, in another few hours it would have reached the ground. Erik wondered if they had missed dinner.

"Erik?" Christine asked softly.

He jumped, his hands clenching each other as he looked at her. "Yes?"

She heaved a heavy sigh. "I accept your proposal."

And at once, the remain weight on Erik's went out in one breath. "I- thank you."

She laughed softly, the setting sun making her eyes sparkle. "You know what convinced me?"

"No."

"You're friend, Nadir?" She cocked her head. "Yes I believe that was his name. I asked him about you, he said he thought you would be a good husband." She shrugged. "I believed him, but I find that with these decisions it is always best to consult God."

Erik nodded, the world still seemed to spin under him.

"I- I still will hold you to my requirements." She reminded him. "No mistresses. And I do not want to be dressed up and put in a corner, I want to be heard."

Erik nodded. "Of course. I understand." His hands gripped each other behind his back

"I do have something I must ask you." Christine murmured. "Are you aware, well. Your mask-" She pressed her lips together, and then her words came all spilling out. "You see, in order for us to make an heir, your mask- it might- well. It might get in the way, what are- what are we going to- well, do?" She looked at him, her eyes not mocking him, looking with real earnest.

Erik ducked his head, thinking quietly. It was not something he had considered, he wondered how she had thought of this ahead of time. "I- I will remove the mask." He considered finally. "It will have to be dark, dark enough that you cannot see." He shivered, thinking of Carlotta and her scream.

She nodded. "I understand. You see, I do- I do truly want this marriage to go well. I- I do not take relationships lightly."

Erik chuckled. "Neither do I."


	7. Chapter 7

**"C-cough." *Hunches over, remembering when I said that it would be ten chapters long and knowing that it's gonna be double that now.***

**"Sur-surprise?" **

They set the wedding a week from that Monday evening. They posted the announcement on the church door, Christine desperately hoped that no one would disprove it. She needn't have worried, the King's signature at the bottom of the paper was more than enough to persuade anyone that this marriage was more than legal.

She hoped The Duke understood the great risk he was making to his position by marrying her. She hoped more than anything that ten years from now he would not regret his marriage to her.

He had already given her the money to hire the maid to tend to Mama Valerius. Christine had interviewed many a village girl over the week, eventually deciding on one who had nursed her mother until her passing. She seemed a good sort, not one to abandon her job. The money would last for three months, then Erik would have to send more.

The week was a flurry of preparation, the King insisted on paying for the poor feast they could provide. They killed three chickens for the dinner. Christine would need a wedding dress, Mary (Bless her.) gave Christine one of her old dresses. It was a nice blue that would be suitable for a wedding. To make it just that much nicer, Mary insisted on embroidering the edges and the sleeve. It was simple, but better than the worn clothes that Christine usually wore.

Christine chose Andre to run the Inn after she left, she also spent the week training him. This included accounting for the money that came in and out, and how to delegate tasks to others.

These were all things that Christine had expected she would have to do. What she hadn't expected was a flurry of gifts of embroidered handkerchiefs, small baubles, and hats from her friends within the castle. Words of appreciation for all she had done for them, sometimes tears accompanied their words of thanks. When they didn't she could see the pain in their eyes. She hadn't known that they had such love for her. She had always felt a little apart from them, even when they had accepted her into their friend groups.

Most of them had worked on that land for generations, she had wandered from land to land, never staying long enough to become attached to one place. Then Lady Valerius had taken her under her arm and she had not thought of them. She had assumed they had not wanted her there with them, but now she knew the wall she had seen had been built by her own imagination. It made her sad for what could have been, but was far too late to dwell on it. She thanked each of them with as much sincerity as she could muster without tears and accepted each gift, trying to connect each gift to a familiar face so that she might remember them as she used each one.

Still, she was happy. She would start over in a new place, and she would be sure not to allow such a thing as her own imagination stop her from letting herself be welcome again. She would start over... with Erik.

Christine wasn't exactly sure what she thought of Erik. She knew that he had no noble blood, those rumors had reached her at least. But there was a dark intensity about him that she hadn't expected. She knew that he didn't make decisions lightly, Nadir had told her so much. He must have thought her a great advantage as a wife if he had proposed to her. She was determined to fill his expectations.

It would be like running the inn. She told herself. Just bigger, with more money and more servants. Still, the thought frightened her. If she made a mistake in her organization, more would suffer from them.

And then the heir. Christine ran her hand over her stomach, thinking of the baby that would hopefully come into it one day. She liked children, had always wanted her own, but there was no guarantee that she would provide an heir. She might bear three daughters and then never be with child again. She was old for a wife, she did not have as long as most to provide a son. Still, older than her had had sons, though they had already been married by Christine's age.

Not only that, but he left for four of the seven days up coming to the wedding. He said he intended to buy her a ring. Christine's mind was plagued with visions of him being eaten by wolves on the way back. Ridiculous.

She tried not to worry too much, though she did pray near constantly that week that she had not made a mistake. She hadn't prayed so hard since Lady Valerius had become ill, her prayers hadn't seemed to help much then, but she had gained comfort from them. She drew comfort from them now. Somehow she knew that whatever happened, it was meant to be, maybe even for the best.

The night before her wedding, she made the final small changes in her dress before collapsing in bed and sleeping in her day wear. Somehow she couldn't muster up the energy to care that tomorrow she would be a married woman, at the moment, all she wanted was the loving embrace of her bed.

When she woke in the morning, she scrambled to pack what little was left of her belongings. One of the younger girls helped her into her dress and to do up her hair. Christine regretfully realized she wouldn't be able to wear it down anymore, loose hair signified that you were not married.

The ceremony was surprisingly crowded, near everyone from the castle came as well as the King's guard, Nadir, and the King.

Their Priest gave the ceremony. Christine spoke words that she barely understood, her mind was racing. She could barely understand anything around her. How she was wearing Mary's dress? How had all her things ready to pack up and go for the next day? How was she holding the hands of a man she barely knew and reciting vows that would bind her to him forever?

For a moment she had regretted the decision to marry him and had almost ran off back to the castle and stability, but she managed not to flinch when the Duke slid the ring on her finger.

The priest declared them husband and wife.

The world around Christine spun, she could barely think. Then she managed to focus on his eyes, they seemed ashamed. She realized numbly that it was tradition for the married couple to kiss each other in celebration after the ceremony, but they couldn't, because of his mask.

Her heart melted, and the world around her suddenly seemed as clear as glass. Her arms found a way around his neck and she stood on her toes to kiss his jawline, just barely revealed by the mask.

The sudden roar of the crowd surprised Christine so much that she missed the glazed look in Erik's eyes as she did so. She also missed the deep red blush that spread from his cheeks to his ears for she was being pulled away by old friends and he by Nadir.

They walked the mile to the castle where the feast was waiting for them. Christine ate and talked and cried and laughed. Older mothers took her hand and offered advice earnestly, girls ran up to her and begged her to marry them to a knight once she was a duchess, boys begged to be given the right to become a knight. More little presents were slipped in her pockets. She was crushed by the numerous hugs and kisses they all wished to give her.

So surrounded was she by these people that she did not notice Erik sitting in the corner next to Nadir, eating nothing, doing nothing. He merely watched her be surrounded by joy and love and regretting ever of thinking of taking her away from it all.

Sometimes he would pause poking at the chicken on his plate to touch the spot where she had kissed him. Mostly, he ignored Nadir, never letting his eyes leave her smiling, joyful face.

* * *

Christine worked at the buttons on her sleeve while Erik sat on their bed, he had left the party early and was already undressed. Sometimes she glanced at him as she worked through the rows of tiny buttons, he seemed downcast.

The room was lit by two candles, one on the dressing table that Christine was using, and the other on the bed table by Erik.

She had just finished her second sleeve when he spoke.

"Do you hate me?"

Christine stared at him, her arm halfway out of her sleeve. "No."

He turned, his voice astonished. "Why not?"

She laughed. "It was my choice to marry you. You didn't force me, why should I hate you?" She hoped that he didn't give a good reason for her to.

"I am taking you away from here, from your friends. From the ones who love you."

She shrugged. "My choice, it was not easy, but it was mine. I can hardly blame you for it."

"Most would." He said ruefully.

She pulled her other arm through her sleeve and began to pull the dress above her head. "It's good you didn't marry them, then." She pulled it off her head, then stood to place it on her chair for the next day. She blew out the candle on her dresser, leaving just the one by the Duke.

Her feet tingled as they felt the bare stone floor, she shivered as she stood in nothing but her shift. She dashed across the cold stone floor to the bed. She pulled back the covers and dove between them, Erik jumped.

"You should join me." Christine whispered.

He nodded, reaching up to adjust his mask before joining her beneath the covers of the bed.

They lay there, in the light of the candle, side by side, both too afraid to blow it out.

"My Lord?" Christine whispered.

"Erik."

"Do you- what?"

He turned to his side to look at her. "Erik, call me by my name. We are married now, after all."

She followed suit. "Oh. Well, Erik," She pressed her head into the pillow a little more. "do you hate me?"

"Of course not, why would you ask such a thing?"

"I don't know, I thought you might, because I was your only option for marriage."

His eyes behind his mask widened. "Why would I blame such a thing on you?"

Christine shrugged. "Many would."

He chuckled. "Well, let us both celebrate our lack of hatred." His thin hand, ungloved, Christine noted, reached out to touch one of the free strands of her hair. "You are very beautiful." He noted.

Christine felt herself flush, to hide it she sat up, reaching across Erik for the candle on the table next to him. But she missed, and stumbled for a moment. Erik's hands, strong and steady, caught her at her waist. With his support she snatched the candlestick, held it up, and blew it out.

Darkness filled the room.

**Fun fact, I wrote most of this chapter while listen to the Guardians of the Galaxy 2 soundtrack. Lake Shore Drive is the best thing ever. XD**


	8. Chapter 8

**Doot doot doot. More story!**

She surrounded by a storm. By servants carrying bags and luggage. By soldiers and manservant who knew where nothing was.d The man next to her, the one she had appointed to be in charge once she was gone, he was a small storm in himself. At first she tried to have him direct them leaving, but it had proved so ineffective she had dove in herself.

Chaos shook in front, with order streaming behind her. She wove through the storm, setting out each fire as she went.

It was a sort of skill that she seemed to have. Erik wondered if she had always been so, or if it was a skill she had cultivated over the years. Still, it was impressive, watching her from his horse as she ordered the world around her. They should have left an hour ago, but one thing led to another and they were late. Every time he asked her when she thought they would be ready to go she waved her hand and muttered something about ten minutes.

They were ready, her things were strapped to a horse behind them. Nadir and the others were all saddled. But she was still helping the others, giving last minute instructions to the servants. Once, she had paled and run into the castle, coming out she looked much calmer. He wondered what had worried her so.

Finally, an hour and a half after they should have left, she said goodbye. (He hoped dearly for the last time.)

He helped her up onto the horse with him, setting her comfortably in front of him. She was so short that the top of her head barely brushed his. "I'm ready to go." She said. "Thank you for waiting."

Erik set the horse into a slower trot. The others quickly followed suit, within moments they were outside the courtyard. Erik broke into a canter, suddenly fearful that her connection to her castle would be so strong that she would suddenly be hindered again.

Christine gripped the front of the saddle beneath him, he noted that she tensed considerably. He remembered that she admitted she was not a skilled rider, though Lady Valerius had tried to teach her, he slowed them back to a walk. He leaned forward to whisper into her ear.

"Are you sore?"

He hoped not, he'd tried to be gentle.

"Yes." She whispered back. "A little, don't worry, I was told that it's normal."

They climbed a hill, if Erik looked to his left, he could see the chapel where they were married. He pointed it out to Christine, and almost immediately wished he hadn't. Her eyes filled with tears, they streamed down her cheeks as she looked at her home and her church and the trees they had walked under. She never stopped staring until they were hidden by the trees as they came down again.

She pulled a handkerchief from a pocket somewhere and began dabbing at her cheeks.

"Are you sure-" He began.

"Yes I sure." She said shortly. "I'm just going to miss it. I'm used to traveling, I'll be fine."

"Really?" He asked. "Where did you travel?"

The words spilled out of her mouth so rapidly that he realized she was distracting herself. She told him of the far north, where sun shone all day during the summer, and hid all night during the winter. She told of the lights in the sky that came when the sun hid. She told him of her time in Germany, in Denmark, even in Spain for a while. It seemed she had been everywhere north.

In return he told her of Egypt, the never ending sand, the pyramids and tombs that he saw. The river that brought their people life. He told her of the long trek down to save the holy land, and the return.

He also told her how he had gained his land, and his fortune. It seemed only fair. She would have to know.

They stopped for lunch, there wasn't much of an inn nearby, but they had packed a meal of pies and apples. They drank from a nearby stream.

Erik noted that Nadir had been surprisingly quiet during the entire journey, normally he liked to poke at Erik. In fact, he had been quiet the entire week. Instead, he had spent the entire journey examining Christine.

No doubt he thought Erik insane for choosing a common woman to wife, perhaps he hoped he had at least one sane person in this new marriage.

Still, that evening after supper Erik confronted Nadir about his strange behavior.

He had penned the man right outside the stables, Nadir always was nervous about their horses. Nadir had no defense for himself, other than that he was simply curious about what would have made Erik choose to marry her.

Erik dismissed him, walking up to the room he shared with Christine. He found her closing the curtains in her under-dress.

"Leave them open." He told her.

She jumped, turning to see him she sighed in relief and laid a hand on her heart. "You frightened me." She told him quietly. It was very late, no doubt others wanted to sleep. Was she always so considerate?

"I'm sorry. Leave the curtains open."

She gestured out the window, yawning. "The moon is full tonight, there will be light." She closed the curtains.

He sat on the bed, pulling off his tunic. "We will not need the darkness tonight, I will not be removing my mask."

Her voice was firm, but tired. "You will remove your mask, I will not have you so inconvenienced." He felt her sit next to him, he saw her hands clasp in her lap. "We need not do anything more than sleep." She told him gently.

He was silent.

"Do you normally sleep with your mask on?" She asked.

He shook his head.

"Well then." She said, as if it decided that matter.

"I normally sleep with a bolted door. I do not trust that lock." He gestured to the door.

She stood, grasping the stool that sat at a small desk, she jammed it under the doorknob and turned to face him.

"Well?"

He chuckled. "Very well, you win." He tossed his tunic to the end of the bed.

* * *

The journey to his home took two more weeks. After the first few days, he had Christine try practicing riding on her own for a few hours a day. She was truly dreadful, he noted. She was far too afraid of her horse to command it, she tried to hide it, but every time she rode one alone her face grew pale and she looked as if she were going to be sick.

He asked her, one night with her in his arms, whether she had had a bad experience with horses before.

She nodded, her head resting against his chest. "My father's horse." She whispered. "It was spooked somehow, it trampled over him, broke his leg. He died from the infection."

Erik tightened his hold around her.

"I'm better than I used to be." She told him earnestly. "And I'm doing much better from your instruction, I can tell. Simply give me time, I'll master horse riding yet."

She worked hard at it, by the end of the journey she rode a horse for nearly half a day. She climbed down for lunch looking so triumphant he felt a little feeling of pride for her curl around his heart. It bode well that the Lady of the Black Lands did not shirk from her fears.

Nadir improved little from the journey, he still seemed to be examining Christine from a distance. The servants and soldiers he had brought with him seemed to be following his example.

As such, Christine had nearly no one to talk to but him. Sometimes she traded a few stories with a barmaid here and there, but by and large she had only him for company.

He was split on how he felt on this. He knew she was a sociable person, she liked people, and she ought to have many as she wished to speak to. And yet, they learned so much about each other during the journey that he felt that their marriage would not have gone so well without it.

He also learned that he snored at night. Somewhere on the second night Christine had shook him awake and informed him that he had better sleep on his side or he would have a shrew for a wife the next morning. She did not do very well without sleep.

Erik learned that Christine had almost been a Lady, but that Lady Valerius had lost her mind before she had decided to formally adopt Christine. He learned how close they had been, almost mother and daughter. He learned about her father, the musician, and her late mother.

She asked him many questions, he tried to revel as little as possible about his childhood, but answered freely about his reign from the past fifteen years. She wanted to know how he had turned such a wasteland into a successful one. When he gave her the story in detail, she told him it was very impressive. He told her it was more impressive what she had done, starting over from nearly nothing.

He liked the way that she smiled when she heard his stories, he loved her laugh, it was like her singing, full of life. He found he liked her gentle silent ways when she was tired, and her more assertive but still kind words when she was awake.

He liked it best of all when she grew weary at the end of the day and leaned back against him. His arm would circle around her so that she did not need to support herself anymore, and she would relax in his arms. It felt good. Her warmth would seep into him, her head settling against his chest.

By the end of his journey he was entirely convinced that he had made the right choice in marrying her. He could only hope that she could prove to the rest of the household of that fact.


	9. Chapter 9

**Eyo! So, I make a map of Erik's castle. (Basic map.) Just for reference, if you want to see it, feel free to look at this link-**

** the-luminist/art/Castle-design-830734198**

Christine's nose prickled, there was a new sensation she couldn't identify, she frowned sniffing the air. "What's the smell?" She asked Erik, sitting behind her, his hands at the reigns.

His deep voice rumbled against her back. "My lands are mostly by the sea." He said.

Christine smiled, sitting up in the saddle for a moment, hoping to see it on the horizon. "Does that mean we're close?" She asked.

One of his arms reached up to pull her down, she sat in the saddle with a thump. "Yes, but it still more than two hours away. My castle is on a cliff next to the sea, you won't see it until your almost to the edge."

"I've never seen the sea." Christine admitted. "I cam close to it a few times, but I've never seen it."

"The water is cold." He told her. "Not warm enough to swim in."

She shrugged her shoulders, settling back into Erik's chest. "I wonder if I could. I used to swim in the lake up North, it's much colder there than here, certainly."

"Then I will take you to the beach sometime." Erik told her. "The cliff is very long, a four hours ride to the first beach, but it's quite beautiful."

Christine nodded. "Thank you."

His gloved hands on the reigns pulled the horse into a trot. Ever since the rest of his servants had come with the rest of his things, he'd been dressing in finer clothing than what he had arrived in. These gloved were embroidered, and had a small jewel in the center of the back, they were tailored to his long, thin hands. Christine wondered how much they had cost.

Nadir galloped to the side of Erik. "Should I ride ahead and prepare them for your arrival?" He asked.

Christine turned to look at Erik for his decision. Erik seemed to hesitate.

"If Christine does not mind."

Nadir looked to Christine, his eyes sharp as they waited for her decision. Christine wasn't exactly sure why, but he'd seemed wary of her ever since he'd found out that Erik had proposed to her, perhaps it had something to do with the fact she was a peasant. Or, at least, she had been.

Still, he'd been kind to her. He'd answered every question she'd had about Erik. In fact, it had been his high praise of Erik that had largely convinced Christine to accept his marriage proposal.

She nodded to him. "It's all right, I do not mind."

He nodded, then pulled into a trot and raced ahead of them. Christine watched him go.

"A wise decision decision." Erik said behind her.

Christine turned to him. "Really, how so?"

"The servants might not accept you at first, they expect a noble woman from birth." Erik said uneasily. "But seeing that we are riding to together might help."

"I see." Christine gripped the front of the saddle a little tighter. "I don't blame them, they expect a Lady."

She felt him tense behind her. "And they will be receiving one." He insisted.

"High praise." Christine said, her eyes watching Nadir hurry down the road. "Thank you."

* * *

The castle was much, much larger than she'd expected. They rode along the coast for a few minutes, she could see that in one area it poked out like the lump on Janet's leg. There, the castle lay, it's back to the sea.

Not only did it have a tower that must have been six stories in the inner castle, but an outer wall with round towers dotting every so often. Inside, the land rose to reveal the castle itself. There was the tall tower, a hall connected to it. It was all made out of the strange, dark stone she'd noticed that were embedded into the waving hills of the lands they'd been riding over. It was almost black, she blanched at how dark it must be inside the buildings.

"The easily accessible dark stone is what allowed me to make the outer wall." Erik said softly. "I never could have afforded it otherwise."

"It must be dark inside." Christine said gently. She hoped he would allow her to brighten it with tapestrys and carpets.

"Lady Giry has noticed as much." Erik said. Christine watched the castle steadily grow in height and width as they rode around to the front. She leaned back to see the top, she had never seen such a large castle. Even when she had visited her old Lord's castle with Lady Valerius.

She was a duchess now. The thought made her stomach twist.

"She had done her best to bring in as much color and life as she can." Erik told her. "She wishes to whitewash the entire castle, but I do not care for the expense."

"Lady Giry?"

"She runs the household for me." He said. "She will help you until you feel you are capable yourself."

"Does she know I'm coming?"

"If Nadir tells her, and I think he did, she will know. She is his wife." He shrugged. "He also thinks we should whitewash the castle."

"Doing this much would be very expensive." Christine murmured. She tried to think how many people and how much time it would take. It would take weeks, and at least twenty men. She decided that Erik was correct in that it was too expensive to be practical.

The outer wall must have been at least thirty feet tall, he had carved a moat along the outer edge, the sea itself spilling into it. Christine was impressed by his ingenuity as they crossed the bridge.

Two towers framed a single iron gate. Christine knew it was a newer style in castles. They waited while they slowly lifted it, it creaked and groaned. The iron was rusting a little. Christine wondered if the salt in the air made it rust faster.

They rode into the castle, there was a fair amount of green grass inside the outer wall, and then the courtyard with the center castle. There was a rusting gate they had to wait to have lifted as well.

They rode inward, Christine sat straight and tall as Lady Valerius taught her. She was glad she did so, inside dozens of people stood in lines, ready to receive their Lord. She'd never seen so many serve in one place before. They barely had ten at their her old caste. She tried counting their heads and gave up somewhere around thirty, but guessed there must have been at least fifty.

Erik stood and dismounted, giving his hand to hers as she slid down. She stood and faced all the people she was a lady of and gave a small curtsy. As she rose she noticed the sharp gaze of a woman. She had dark hair, and wore the best clothes out of everyone, in addition, she was standing ahead of them, next to Nadir. Christine guessed it was Lady Giry.

She felt Erik's hand at her back. "This is Lady Black." He said, his voice echoing around the courtyard. "My wife. She is your duchess now, and I expect you to treat her as such." He waved his hand and they all scattered save Lady Giry and and Nadir, they walked forward.

Lady Giry curtsied low, murmuring to Christine. "Your Grace."

That was her title now, wasn't it?

Erik's hand slid around her waist. "Yes. She will have the northern bedroom. Will you please have her things taken there? I will show her the castle."

Madame Giry nodded and left.

Nadir stepped forward. "Your Grace-"

"You may have the day off with your children." Erik cut in, Christine suddenly imagined a knowing smile behind it. It seemed odd that she didn't truly know what her husband looked like. The mask, the white mask seemed to be all there was sometimes.

Nadir nodded and walked off.

"He has three sons and a daughter he's very fond of." Erik explained. "May I show you the castle-" he stopped. "Or perhaps you wish to rest." He said, his shoulders hunching up in embarrassment.

Her legs where sore after two weeks of riding, but Christine thought that a long walk would do them good. "I'd like a tour, thank you." She told him.

"Very well."

* * *

It was a very large castle, at least thirty rooms. He showed her the chapel first. It was in the grassy area just inside the outer wall. It was very large, two stories high with a large glass window at the end. Entirely made of stone, it was the only building whitewashed. It's benches were new and polished, you didn't have to fear splinters breaking through your behind.

Next, he took her to one of the towers in the outer walls and helped her climb it until they reached the top. There he showed her the sea.

Never in her life had she seen something so vast and so large and so powerful as the sea. Going on and on, she felt she could stare at it until nightfall came, but Erik nudged her along, murmuring something about how they had much more ground to cover.

There were eleven towers in the outer wall, most of them were barracks and servants quarters. Each one had animal painted on the door to differentiate one from the other. She found out they sorted the outer towers into the "Sea Towers" and the "Land towers" There was one prison tower in the middle of what they called the "Sea Towers"

They moved inwards. He showed her the enormous kitchen that doubled as a bakery, the full storage room, and the basement underneath. It was almost fall, they needed all the food they could get.

One of the inner towers held three seamstresses, all furiously sewing over one thing or another. There was an icehouse near the kitchen. Christine had never had an ice house before, she thought how useful it must be.

There was the Hall, which housed an enormous fireplace. There were windows on every side, indeed, there were multiple windows in almost every room. She mentioned this.

He didn't seem surprised. "I tried to add as many windows as I could when I built it, I knew it would be dark inside with the stone."

He then showed her the Solar, the floor where she and Erik would be living in. It had many colorful tapestries, and even a rug in the main floor. The windows had heavy curtains, though they were open, with light shining through the glass windows.

Erik ushered her down a hallway, opening the door into what he explained would be her room.

There was a large bed, with curtains to draw about them. A wooden trunk with iron wrapped around it at the end of it. A rug to the side of the bed. There were two windows against one wall, the sun was on the other side, so not much light shone through, but-

Christine walked to the window, pushing aside the curtains. The window looked over the sea. She smiled, looking over the waves, her hand touching the glass over the window.

"I thought you might want the view."

Christine nodded. "Yes, I do. Thank you."

"Is there anything else you wish for?" He asked.

Christine tore her eyes away from the ocean to look around the room again. "A table." She decided. "And a chair."

He nodded, his hand reaching up to touch his mask again. "It will be done."

"She will also need a handmaiden."

They both turned to the doorway, where Lady Giry stood, her arms crossed. "She is a duchess now, after all."

**Reviews make authors happy. :D**


	10. Chapter 10

Christine smiled, trying to quell the intimidation she felt from this stern woman. "I don't need a handmaiden." She said quietly.

"You will when you start dressing like a proper duchess." Said Lady Giry, her eyes searched over Christine. She suddenly noticed every patch and every stain in her simple brown dress.

"She will dress how she wills." Erik insisted, stepping forward. He was tall, as tall as the butcher in the village she had bought her meat from, and he had his door frame specially built so that he would not knock his head on it.

One would think that the Duke's thin frame would downplay his height, but something in the way he held himself made it known that he would take down any man. He loomed over Lady Giry.

She was not impressed. "She is a duchess, she needs to dress her station. You want the servants to respect her? She will have to play the part. She needs a new wardrobe, a handmaiden, preferably two, and your permission for authority."

Christine stayed silent, she hadn't considered such a thing. But she realized that what Lady Giry said was true, so when Erik stepped forward again no doubt to argue some more, she put her hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"She is right." She took a risk. "And you know it."

His hand went up and wove its way into his black hair. She heard him breathing heavily. "Yes, of course. A handmaiden, a new wardrobe. Giry?"

"I will take care of it, if you wish." She said coolly.

His hand came down and he stormed past Lady Giry out of the room.

Christine stood, slightly stunned. Lady Giry seemed less affected.

"It will not be the last time you will see him loose his temper." She said dryly, stepping into the room. "He doesn't like it when people force him or someone he cares for to do something he believes they do not want."

Christine blinked. "Oh. I thought he was angry from the cost." She said. "I don't want to be an expense to him-"

Lady Giry scoffed and waved her hand to cut Christine off. "He is not worried about money. Don't short change yourself. You are his wife, he is supposed to provide for you. If he hadn't wanted to provide for a common girl than he shouldn't have married one." Then she smiled, a little guiltily. "Though, you are common no longer, I assure you."

Christine smiled. "I see what you mean." She looked out the window to see the position of the sun, it was an hour until sunset. "What are we going to do about my wardrobe? I've never had to worry about mine before." She admitted.

"Nothing, right now." Madame Giry said quickly. "We can begin that tomorrow. For now, I think it best for you to rest. I'l have Meg bring you up a super."

* * *

Meg turned out to be a cheerful blonde girl probably about five years younger than Christine, bringing a tray of pastries, white bread, milk and a little plate of butter. She introduced herself as Marguerite, "But call me Meg, everyone does." She explained as she set the tray on the bed where Christine sat. She stood back, watching Christine eat.

Christine found that she liked her. Behind the cheerfulness she sensed a practical hardness that Christine knew very well. It was the same thing Christine saw when she looked at herself.

"Your mother doesn't seem to like me very much." Christine commented, buttering some of the bread.

Meg laughed. "Don't take it personally. She's like that with everyone. But she likes you, I can tell. Otherwise she wouldn't have sent me up here."

Christine relaxed.

Meg hesitated for a moment, and then said in a low voice. "Is it really true that you ran an inn before you married Duke Erik?" She whispered. "I've heard the rumors, but-"

"It's true." Christine said, there was no use in trying to say differently. She almost took a bite from her bread, but thought better of it. "I was taken in by Lady Valerius, she taught me to be a lady."

Meg nodded. Christine dug into her bread, it was very good, but not as rich as the bread she was used to. She noticed Meg still waited at her bedside, she swallowed.

"Do you want anything?" She said.

Meg jumped a little, her smile weakening a little. "Well, your Grace. I was wondering, mother says you need a handmaiden. I act as a handmaiden for any noble ladies that visit our castle. I have the most experience. If you could consider..."

It suddenly occurred to Christine that she had quite a lot of power now. Enough that people would try their hardest to be kind to her so that they might share in it. She didn't think Meg had bad intentions, but there were certainly many that would. It was a responsibility that came with being in a position of power.

Christine set down her bread thinking, she didn't want to make any final decisions at the moment. "We'll see." She finally said. "I will consider it, your mother and I will discuss my options."

She was proud of her answer. Meg seemed to take it well, curtsying before leaving the room. Christine dug into her food tray with relish, eating in the quickly darkening room.

* * *

After eating breakfast the next morning. (Served by Meg again.) Lady Giry strode in and informed Christine that the castle clothier was coming to plan Christine's new ensemble.

The clothier, a middle aged woman with a growing middle and a confident stride, had strode in, and pulled every article of clothing Christine owned and threw it on the bed and viewed it with a critical eye. "This is all you have?" She sputtered, looking at the two dresses (Christine wore the third), three shifts and various head cloths that Christine owned. "Two gowns only fit for beggars, one fit for a maid, three _cotton_" She spat that word out. "not even linen, but _cotton_ shifts, and these-" she paused to find an appropriately insulting word for the head cloths. "_scraps_ of cloth?"

Christine's voice was quiet. "I had no need for a rich wardrobe before I came here." She said softly.

"Rich!" The clothier laughed, her voice hitting a high note that Christine suspected could not be reached in anything but the most strenuous of moments. "Rich! You're not fit to meet a farm hand, let alone any Tom, Dick, or Harry that might be strolling up the castle with a title." Her hands went up to her face and she groaned. "We don't even have any old clothes to fill in the difference, new Lord. New land. No old clothes to alter!"

Christine felt her face burning. "Is it truly so bad?" She asked quietly.

"Goodness yes child." The clothier turned to snap at Christine. "You've got to dress your station, you understand? You've enough disadvantages as is and you don't have a single proper thing to wear-" She took a deep breath. "We'll be sewing like the wind, we will. No matter."

"What will she need?" Madame Giry asked, looking as emotionless as ever.

"Everything!" The clothier shrieked. "New dresses, coats, I-" She stopped, taking a few moments to calm herself. "At least six under dresses, four overdresses, seven linen shifts, silk head clothes, a court gown make of silk, a coat, a caplet and-" She saw Christine's wooden clogs peaking out from under her dress. "two pairs of shoes." She snapped. "It'll take a week to have the first dress finished on top of our other work, and even longer for everything else. The shoes the cobbler can manage..."

She continued to mutter when and where everything would have to be produced. Lady Giry gave her own addition. "We can hire people from the village to help with the sewing. The regular sewing, not Lady Black's clothing." She added when the clothiers mouth opened to protest. "Now quiet yourself. I will send a messenger for help from the village, you will take Christine to be fitted."

**I keep on typing Madame Giry, then deleting and retyping Lady Giry. If you catch any mistakes let me know. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm feeling pretty stupid right now. I said that this story was currently in December, and then later wrote as if it was spring. Or fall. Or something. It sure doesn't sound like winter. Whoops. *slaps forehead.*. I'll fix that in the next draft. I guess this is what happens when you update a story every other day. You rush and make stupid mistakes. For future chapters, it is Winter. As it was originally supposed to be.**

She was surrounded by the three seamstresses he had employed, her arms at her sides, standing on a stool. He had only come in to have one of his old shirts repaired. He had not trusted his manservant to do it as he had a distressing tendency to throw away Erik's old clothes.

He found that they had pinned a bolt of wool, his wool, to her and were fitting it carefully with pins and hasty stitches. When Christine spotted Erik, she grinned sheepishly and said- "They have a whole wardrobe planned out for me."

He knew that she was in a great disadvantage, having no fine clothes. And yet-

"Do you mind? I don't wish to force you." He asked her anxiously, his shirt twisting in his hands. She laughed a little and shook her head, relief filled him.

"No no." She insisted. "I don't mind having nice dresses, I just. I hope the cost isn't too much." She informed him. "I know how expensive clothes are."

This time it was his turn to laugh. "Do not worry about any expenses."

She nodded, then winced a little. One of the seamstresses working on her sleeve began murmuring apologies.

Christine hushed the seamstress by her side and turned back to Erik. "Thank you. The clothier nearly had a fit when she saw my wardrobe."

"Ah, yes. She has a similar reaction when I do not dress my station." Erik told her. "But she means well, I assure you."

Christine shrugged, to the protest of the seamstresses. "Yes, I know."

A pregnant silence fell.

"I... came to have this shirt repaired." Erik said slowly, he held it out to no one in particular.

One of the seamstresses pointed vaguely to a chair. "Put it there, one of the village girls can get to it once they arrive."

"I- what?"

The seamstress looked up from her work. "We're all working on her Grace's clothing so that it might be finished as soon as possible, Lady Giry is hiring some village girls to do the work we can't. Your Grace." She added.

"They think it will take six weeks to get everything done." Christine interjected.

Erik tossed the shirt onto the intended chair in the corner from the doorway. "Very well, continue."

* * *

The knock on the door made him jump, reaching for the sword that he kept by his bed. Then he froze, and remembered when he had whispered in Christine's ear that he had wanted her in his bedroom that night.

He checked his mask as he walked to the door, then opened it for her.

She was dressed a robe of some kind, green, and patterned with leaves, cinched around her waist. Her hair was braided down her back, wisps of it framing her face beautifully.

When she saw him staring, walked around him into the room and waited for him to close the door before she spoke. "Lady Giry loaned me her robe."

"I see." He said quietly.

She smiled prettily, sitting at the side of his bed. "Why do you want me here tonight?" She asked.

_Because I miss sleeping with you by my side. Because I have barely spent a minute with you in the last day and I miss you, I miss you already, and I shall miss you more._

"I must discuss the matter of a maid with you." He finally said.

She nodded, straightening, her hands coming back to her lap. Within moments she was a lady. "Yes, I've been wanting to discuss that with you as well. Do you have any recommendations? Meg has requested the position, she claims to have prior experience but I thought that I should check with you before I made any final decisions."

He had not expected such an in depth discussion.

"I am aware she has acted as Lady's maid to those who requested it." He said finally. "You may have her if you wish."

"I'm thinking about it, but I do not want to be too hasty." She said, her chin settling on her hand. "I do not want to take her, and then release her later. It might offend her, and I do not want to make enemies."

He was stunned silent, he could not think of anyone else besides Meg.

She laughed a little, then patted the spot next to her. "You may as well sit while you think." She said.

He sat stiffly next to her. "Do you have anyone else in mind?" He asked.

Christine shrugged. "Not necessarily. But I thought you might, I asked Lady Giry earlier today, she suggested a few people besides Meg, but I haven't met them yet. But I do like Meg."

"It is your decision." He said finally. "You may meet with anyone you like, and then choose for yourself."

Her face brightened. "Thank you. I think I will take Meg, but it would probably be polite to interview at least a few others." She stood, stretching backwards for a moment, then turned to face him. "Do you want anything else?"

_Do you miss me, as I do?_

All he could manage was to gesture to the bed.

Her eyes filled with understanding. "Oh!" She jumped up and ran to the windows to pull the curtains in front of them, standing on the tips of her toes to reach the top. He saw her feet were bare.

"Do you not have slippers?" He asked.

She spoke as she jerked each window closed. "No. Not yet, I will. Soon. I hope." She grinned at him over her shoulder. "It's not that cold." She said sheepishly.

Once finished, she skipped back to the bed, crawling onto it. Within seconds her robe was on a nearby chair and she lay under the covers, looking at him expectantly.

He joined her more slowly, once finished, he motioned to the candle burning next to her. "Could you-"

"Yes, yes of course." She licked her fingers and put it out.

He untied his mask, setting gently on the table next to his bed. He settled back under the covers. Once again, they lay awkwardly side by side. He gradually realized she was waiting for him to make the first move.

"Christine?" He asked.

"Yes?"

He wondered if she had guessed yet that he could see her, even when it was so dark. That he could see her eyes looking blindly into the dark, waiting for him, that he could see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

"I will be leaving for two weeks."

"I see"

He could not tell if she was happy or sad at the fact.

He heard her shifting a little, perhaps trying to find a more comfortable spot "Are you making rounds on your estate?" She asked. "My Lord used to do that."

"Yes." He whispered. "I do it twice a year, normally. Do you wish to come-"

"I must finish fitting my clothes." She told him. "I can't, I'm sorry."

"I understand."

"Erik?"

He felt his heart quicken. "Yes?" He imagined what she might say. _I will miss you, please don't leave. I miss you already. Is there any other way?_

"When will you be leaving?"

"I leave in a week." His voice was flat. Flatter than it should have been, he couldn't expect so much of her so quickly.

"Good luck in your journey."


	12. Chapter 12

Christine hadn't thought he'd leave so soon, but she supposed that was the way of a Duke that had as much land as the King. One tended to have to travel.

Part of her wanted to go with him, but she barely had two dresses to wear, ever since the completion of her first gown, her other two (Besides her wedding gown.) had mysteriously "disappeared".

She didn't ask where they went, though she thought she saw them going through the laundry when she was receiving an in-depth tour of it's system. It didn't feel worth the battle to get them back, and she wasn't particularly fond of them anyways.

Lady Giry was wasting no time in training Christine. They had been slowly combing the castle, teaching Christine of the careful system that kept everything in place, she was also learning the mannerisms of the upper court. When she wasn't learning to be a duchess, she being fitted in her clothes. When she wasn't being fitted in her clothes, she was trying to find suitable people to interview for the position as a maid.

Needless to say, she didn't think this was the time to take an extended leave. Next time, certainly. But not now.

So, she smiled as brightly as she could as she waved goodbye to Erik when he rode off, ready to tour his lands. She hoped he found great success. She knew that he had picked all his vassals himself, and she guessed he was a good judge of character, so it was unlikely that any of them would rebel, or be neglectful. Still, she worried. She had heard far too many stories of lazy, but ambitious vassals that tried to poison their lords so that they might become a noble.

It rarely worked out that way, but Erik would still be dead, and she would be a widow. It was his authority that gave her the power she had now, she doubted that it would last long after his death.

But it was unlikely. She tried not to think too much on it.

So she continued fitting, learning, working as much she could. She liked being busy. She interviewed several girls under the guidance of Lady Giry, Meg was hired.

Christine had a cot set up in her room for Meg to sleep on. She didn't want to have her sleeping on the floor. Meg thanked her profusely, but Christine would hear none of it. She had spent many a night sleeping on the cold floor in her old home when she had directly served Lady Valerius, and while she did not resent her for it, she would not allow the same inconvenience to her own maid.

It was nice, to have someone to help with her into her new dress, someone she could trust to send on small errands and deliver messages. She was also an enormous help in Christine's first real test as a lady.

Eight days after Erik left, Meg ran to Christine, and said that there was a problem.

One of the three cooks the castle had had been selling food to one of the local merchants. The food had been paid for by Erik, and she was selling it for twice that to another for no cost to herself.

Lady Giry was visiting another smaller building and was an hour away, unable to help her.

The woman stood proudly in front of Christine in the kitchen when she approached her, unashamed for what she had done. The other cooks, maids, servants all stared at her, ignoring their work as she surveyed the impeccable kitchen. There was a small crowd outside the kitchen, mostly stable boys and a few ladies.

They were waiting for Christine to answer. Waiting to see how she would enforce her power. It was a test. Christine knew it was no coincidence that it had been revealed while Lady Giry had been away. If she waited until Lady Giry returned, it would show that she could not take charge herself.

She took a deep breath and spoke. "Why do you sell the Black Duke's meat?" She asked softly. "Does he not provide enough for you?" Once, she had caught one of the servants selling their crops because she was not paid enough to feed her family. Christine found that half the time, there was a reason for thieving beyond greed.

The woman reddened, her lips pressed together as she stood ever straighter.

"You may answer freely. If you are not being provided with enough, simply let me know."

The cook shook her head. "His grace is most generous." She said shortly.

"Well, then why do you steal his food and sell it?" Christine allowed her voice to harden.

The woman swallowed.

"Do you wish to speak of this in private?" Christine questioned, her hand went up to tug the strings her new few lined cape down from her throat.

"No." The woman said shortly. "I was selling it because I wanted more money."

Christine sighed deeply, fingering the ends. "You were aware that you were breaking law?" She questioned.

The woman reddened father, her face a deep scarlet. "Yes. I- I knew that his Grace would not approve."

Christine pressed her lips together. "I will have to punish you then." She decided, then hesitated, and turned to Meg, just behind her. "How has she been in her service?" She asked her.

Meg bowed. "She has been working here for eight years your Grace, I don't believe she has caused any complaint before."

Christine nodded, turning back to the thieving cook. "I understand you made ten silver coins on your last sale, it will be taken away. Your pay will be cut for two months. In addition, you will receive five lashes. I also expect you to speak with father Jules on your sin." Father Jules was the priest for the building Christine had seen earlier. She liked him, though he seemed a little young to be a priest to her.

Christine surveyed the kitchen. "Who else knew about this?" She asked. "I will investigate farther, she cannot have been the only one to know."

An awkward silence ensued. Everyone exchanged glances, Christine thought she saw guilt among some of them.

"All those who do not reveal themselves and are discovered will receive five lashes publicly and have their pay cut for two months as well. Those who reveal themselves will only have their pay cut for a month, with no more said. If you wish to do it privately, you may request my company. Nothing will be said to anyone else."

Suddenly one of the kitchen maids stepped forward. "I knew." She added quickly. "I didn't have anything to do with it, but I didn't tell anyone either."

Christine considered her. "What is your name?" She asked.

"Sylvie, your grace." She looked barely seventeen, her face was pale.

"Thank you Sylvie." Christine said. She looked over the rest of them. "Will anyone else step forward?"

Two others stepped forward, one of the other cooks, and a kitchen boy. She thanked them and collected both their names so that she might spot them in the ledger. No one else confessed.

Christine turned to leave, when suddenly she heard someone hiss behind her.

"_Witch. _You're not even a real lady."

Christine turned, seeing the cook staring at her in hate, her face twisted in an expression that looked almost frightening. "I must keep order within the castle whether I am a lady or not." She said as calmly as she could manage. "I do not expect you to love me, but I do expect you to do your duty, and to not break the laws set by his Grace. If you do not approve of my position, you may take it up with his Grace after he returns."

The woman's fists clenched, then loosened. "Very well." She said tightly.

* * *

The flogging had only the main cook. As far as Christine and Lady Giry could tell, no one else had participated. Christine did not enjoy floggings, but as she was the one who was ordered them, she felt her responsibility to attend.

Once it was finished, the cook was sent to her bed. She would be allowed rest, but would be required to work the next day.

Lady Giry said she had handled it well. "Are you used to handling such things?" She asked Christine during dinner.

Christine shrugged. "People from the village used to come to me to ask for help in deciding matters. I didn't often have problems with my own staff, we were too small and tight knit, I think."

Lady Giry nodded, sipping from her cup of wine. "Crowds and time breed thieves." She said. "We don't have things like this very often, we're so new. But it is only a matter of time."

"I wonder what she wanted the money for." Christine said thoughtfully.

"Wine, clothes, new shoes." Lady Giry shrugged. "She is not married, but is in her thirties. Perhaps she hoped that if she had enough money she could convince a man to marry her."

Christine shifted guiltily in her seat. "Yes, perhaps."

"We don't all have rich dukes to sweep us off our feet." Nadir joked. He was sitting to the right of Christine. He had been traveling with his wife during the incident and hadn't been there either.

Christine laughed thought of all her friends, two weeks journey away, still all working for their food. Meanwhile, she was recieving a whole new wardrobe and living in luxury. She thought of Lady Valerius, laying in her bed, her mind gone and ill every other day.

"No, no we don't." She noted softly. "I was very lucky."

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	13. Chapter 13

There were two bathing rooms in the Black Castle. There was a larger one used by the common folk, and a smaller one for the nobility.

Christine was used to bathing in a lake, or with all the other woman in the castle in the same room. It certainly was an interesting experience to bathe in your own tub with a fabric cover on top for privacy. There wasn't even anyone else in the bathroom at the moment, but word had been sent that Erik was arriving that day and Christine wanted to look her best for him.

The canvas above her head was bare. Normally there would be flowers and incense that would waft sweet smells into the bathtub. But the first time Meg had hung them up for her, Christine had nearly fainted from the combined steam from the water and the pungent smell of herbs. She preferred her baths unscented.

As she scrubbed herself behind the curtain, Meg was laying out her clothes and a linen sheet to dry her when she was finished.

To her surprise, there was a knock at the door. Christine lifted up the edge of the curtain and leaned her chin against the wooden edge of the tub, breathing in the hot steamy air. She saw Meg quickly cross the room. She slid to the side the cover for the door viewer. "What is it?" Meg whispered.

Christine strained her ears, water dripping down her face as she tried to hear what the visitor was saying. She barely heard a word.

Meg nodded, closed the flap and turned around again. Christine quickly dropped the cloth guiltily and began scrubbing at herself again.

"Your Grace?" Meg asked, her shadow appearing behind the thick cloth.

"Yes?" Christine picked a wet lock of hair off her shoulder.

"His grace has been spotted, we have an hour before he comes."

Christine blinked. "An hour, yes. Yes of course. I'll be out in a minute." She ducked under the water to rub the suds out of her hair.

Meg was waiting with the sheet once she was finished, Christine wrapped it around herself, shivering. The bath house only had two small windows at one end, but the cold from the winter was seeping in anyhow.

Quickly, she dressed in one of her new linen shifts, an underdress, a new overdress that had only been finished the day before.

Just as Madame Giry predicted, Christine was grateful for the extra hands as she dressed. Her sleeves had dozens of little buttons to do, three times as many as her old clothes had, and it was a relief to hand them over to Meg. She sat hard in a stool once they were finished and began pulling on her hose while Meg brought a comb and began to run it through Christine's hair. She had another sheet, soaking up water as she went so that her hair would be as dry as possible in the winter outside.

"Your hair is so tangled." Meg complained. "I've never seen anyone with hair as curly as yours."

Christine gasped in pain as she pulled a particularly snarled area. "Good heavens." Christine gripped the stool she sat on. "The pricks from the seamstresse's needles is bad enough Meg, must my hair suffer too?"

"Sorry, sorry."

"And use a wider comb." Christine added. "It'll be faster and effective enough."

She heard a clatter and guessed that Meg had dropped the comb when she heard her swear.

"Meg."

She felt the pull of a new comb. "Sorry, it's just, I want you to look nice for him."

Christine chuckled, tying the knot to hold her hose up with a bow. "Let me worry about that, dear." She reached down to pick up her new shoes made of soft leather. "What took so long to get these done?"

"The cobbler finished your shoes this morning. But it's not his fault-" Meg said anxiously, she jerked a little harder on Christine's hair. "The stupid carpenter took a week to make the mold. We ought to fire him- do they fit?"

Christine wriggled her toes inside he shoe. "Yes."

Meg relaxed. "Oh, good."

Christine glanced behind her. "How much longer until my hair is done being combed?" She asked.

"Oh, just a moment- done!"

Christine nodded in relief, shaking her shoulders to warm them. "I'd like the full wimple, it's so cold."

"It is cold today." Meg agreed, she began pulling Christine's hair back to prepare it for a braid. "You know, this time last year I could go outside with my hair down and in nothing but an underdress. Now you want gloves and a coat if you don't want to freeze-" She froze, Christine looked behind her and found that the maid servants chatter had been stopped by the string she held in her mouth to tie the braid off with.

"It is cold this season. But warmer than Sweden." Christine murmured. "I remember wandering in drifts as tall as my head when I was a little girl."

Meg finished the braid, the string fell from her mouth to her hand. "Really? I'd don't think I've ever seen that much snow. It sounds fun." Her hands pulled the hair up into the nape of Christine's neck. "Ready for the wimple."

Christine handed her the cloth, feeling it being wound and tucked till it covered nearly covered her entire head except for her face. Christine stuffed a few stray curls under the cloth on her forehead and stood. Meg grasped her new cloak and gloves.

The cloak was the finest thing Christine had ever owned, it was lined with fur and silk and was made with the finest wool they had in storage. It was frightfully warm, and Christine had decided to wait until she went outside to put it on, rather than in the humid bath room.

They walked quickly down the hallways, servants passing them and bowing their heads in respect before moving on, Christine still wasn't used to that. Some part of her kept on searching for the noble behind her so that she might bow her head in respect.

Once they reached the edge of the palace doors, Christine donned her cloak and kid leather clothes. She flexed her hands, unused to the tight fit. In the past she had worn mittens.

Snow slowly fell from the sky, Christine looked up at the tiny flakes and smiled. Snow always cheered her, it made her think of her homeland in the North. Dhe thought of the long dark nights she had experienced in Sweden, and wondered why the sun left during the winter so high up in the lands.

She and Meg joined the line of servants while they waited for Erik to return. Christine stood side by side with Lady Giry, implying that they were the same rank, while Meg stood just a little behind her.

It only took five minutes for Erik to arrive. He rode in, sitting as tall as ever on his fine horse. Christine smiled as he came, he crossed the courtyard to just a few feet from Christine, the dozen assorted men he had brought with him trotting behind him. His eyes glittered at her from behind the mask.

Christine curtsied low. "I trust your journey was productive." She said after she rose.

Erik dismounted, handing off the reigns to a waiting stable boy. "Enough so, it was not particularly eventful, but it had to be done." He waved off the servants, they all scattered once again.

His hand went to her back, even through that thick coat Christine swore she could feel his cold hands, and he guided her as they walked towards the door. "I hope your time here was productive, I see that you have a new coat and gloves."

Christine paused to lift her skirts to have her feet poke out from underneath. "New shoes as well. I just received them this morning."

Erik's head cocked just to the side. "Really, and what took them so long?"

"I'm told that the carpenter took far too long with the mold."

"Hm. He is slow in everything he does, but he makes fine work." Erik stepped to the side to allow Christine to enter the building before him.

"Meg thinks he should be sacked." Christine informed him, lifting her skirts to make the step.

Erik fell in after her. "Meg is not the Duke of the Black Lands."

"So I supposed."

**Blurb. I need to plan the next section of the story. It's taking way too long to write chapters again.**

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	14. Chapter 14

As quickly as everything had gone when Erik was gone, things slowed to a crawl when he returned.

Lady Giry and Christine had already been through most of the castle, so the lessons were more relaxed. They focused more and more on the mannerisms of the court. Meg played her part in that, becoming kings, dukes, knights, ladies and duchesses for Christine to practice on.

There were still fitting to be done, as painful as they were. Christine wasn't entirely sure if they pricked her with their needles on purpose, they always apologized so earnestly, and yet it happened so often that Christine wondered.

Two weeks after his return, Erik requested one of the painters in court to make a portrait of her. Sitting for hours motionless was almost worse than fittings, save that there was no one to prick her skin.

The painter, a kind man who spoke with a heavy German accent, was supposedly the courts best. He praised her face, saying that he had not painted so fine a portrait in quite some time.

Christine was gratified to think that he thought her beautiful, though it might have just been because of her station. She had seen ugly woman called beautiful when they had large dowerys, or titles to hide behind. It wasn't that she thought herself ugly, but simply that the artists words might be inspired by something other than her beauty. After all, he had painted Meg, and she was very beautiful. Half the men in the castle were after her for her hand in marriage.

She had thought that it would be as simple as sitting in front of him as he painted her. But there were many steps she had not accounted for. They must paint the same time every day so that he might have the same light to work from. He required the perfect background to portray her in front of. It took an hour of walking round the castle for him to find the perfect spot to paint her. Finally he decided in her bedroom, just outside the window. He examined the sun and the windows and decided that for an hour after she ate would do just fine.

So for an hour after breaking her fast Christine was helped into her finest dress by Meg and sat on a stool in front of her window.

While he painted, the german painter did not speak. Only muttering under his breath as he mixed and worked. Most of it was in German, Christine had learned a little from the germans that had come to the hotel, but she never caught more than. "Hell blau? Nein, mer grun. Ach- zu dunkel. Weiss weiss weiss." And he would dab more white into his mixing palette and mix furiously.

Thus her early mornings were taken up.

In the evenings, Erik had begun requesting her presence. In the hours before dinner they played chess.

Christine had learned to play, but she knew nothing of strategy or plans. As such she was beaten more often than not. Still, the idle chatter they had while each made their moves was pleasant. Occasionally he would explain some move to her, it's mechanics and the plans that laid behind it. It was all very interesting.

Once, as she was telling him of one of the tales her father told her, she asked him what tales he had learned when he was young.

He had looked up at her, his golden eyes startled, hand frozen in the motion of picking up a pawn. He set it in its place and said very coldly, "I learned no tales when I was young."

Christine looked up at him. "What did you learn then? Did your parents sooth you with homer your first day in your cradle?" She teased while gazing over the board, trying to think of her next move. "Come now, I know nothing of your childhood. Pray tell."

He did not answer, and stood very forcefully to walk to the window on the opposite side of the room. His hands, his slender large hands turned to fists of tendons and skin.

Christine stood as well, abandoning the game to walk to his side. "I did not mean to offend." She said as gently as she could.

"I know." His turned to look to her and snapped. "Not all are so fortunate as to have loving parents to tell them stories at night." He spun on his heels and sauntered out the room.

It was strange, Christine did not see him at dinner that day. He did not seem to have the patience for watching everyone else eat that day.

She stopped his manservant in the hallway after dinner and asked after his master.

The man, she believed his name was Jules, merely shook his head. "He will not come out."

Christine pursed her lips. "Has he requested food?" She asked.

"None, your Grace." He said.

She hesitated. "When did he last eat?"

He swallowed, his eyes trailing to the floor. "Two days past." He admitted. "At least, that was when he last requested it from me. He does not eat much-" He said hurriedly at the look of horror on Christine's face. "He never has, in all the time that I have served him."

"Thank you. That will be all."

Jules went down the hallway, looking relieved at being released from his interrogation.

Armed with this information Christine went to the kitchens, now cleaning the leftover food. She thought she spotted the cook who had thieved in the back. At the sight of Christine, she glared at her.

Not at all deterred, Christine went to the cook and asked for a plate of leftovers, with a cup of wine his grace.

Quickly they filled a tray, so much that Christine ordered some removed, but thanked their generosity. She carried it across the courtyard and up into their suite, ignoring the strange looks she received from those in the halls.

She came outside Erik's door, balanced the tray on one hand and knocked. When there was no reply, she knocked harder. "Erik, it's Christine." She called, gripping the tray with both hands.

The door flew open, his mask askew. His eyes flitted first to her, and then to the leaden tray in her arms. He opened the door wider, and let her in.

As soon as the door closed Christine set the tray on the nearest desk and turned to him, her hands on her hips. "I meant no harm in my comments, I came to apologize."

"And the food?" He gestured to the tray.

Christine smiled. "You haven't eaten in two days, or so says Jules." She considered making a comment on how his diet might be affecting his thin frame, but decided against it.

He sighed heavily and tapped his mask.

Christine stopped a stool in the corner of the room and ran over and sat in it, facing the wall resolutely.

"That is your solution?" He said, aghast.

"I shan't be turning round, I assure you." Christine said primly, sitting as tall as she could manage.

She heard a chair scrape against the stone floor and a creak as he sat.

"I am sorry for my actions." His voice said. "Forgive me, I prefer not to think of my childhood."

Christine smiled. "You are forgiven. I shall try not to mention it."

She listened to him eat, carefully examining the wall in front of her in the meantime. He finished quickly, almost too quickly, pushing his chair back he told her, "I am finished."

Christine spun in her chair and stood, strolling next to the seated Erik to examine what he had eaten. A piece of bread was missing, the apple half gone, the cup of wine was empty, very little else. Christine gave him a look the meant that she was not impressed with his efforts.

"I am the Duke of the Black Lands, and I will eat how much I please." He said, giving way of reply.

Christine pursed her lips but smiled. She leaned down to kiss the top of his head before taking the tray. "As you wish, your Grace.

They continued playing chess the next day, she was careful never to mention his childhood. After that night though, she did start the habit of asking his manservant if Erik had eaten that day, and if he hadn't she would gather a few things from the kitchen and carry it up to his room. She would take her place in the corner while he ate with his mask removed, and chat lightly. When he was finished, she would take the dishes, kiss the top of his head and leave.

One day, before she could leave the room, he asked lightly. "Would you like to take a picnic down by the beach tomorrow? I have enough paperwork done that I might take a day off."

Christine turned, the corners of her mouth lifting just a little. "Yes, I think I would like it very much."

His golden eyes sparkled. "We will leave at dawn."

**Translation for the German painter- "Light blue? No, more green. Oops, too dark, white white white."**

**Also, to the guest reviewer who was all panicky about being too late about this story, it is NOT too late. I am STILL updating. I WILL finish this story, one way or another.**

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	15. Chapter 15

**Cathay is the medieval word for China.**

The picnic seemed to be a success. Christine chatted all the way down, riding alone on her own horse. It was an older, tame one that Erik trusted with Christine's inexperience. He'd offered to take her on his own, but she'd insisted she needed the practice.

He understood, yet his arms still ached to hold her as they rode. Wistfully he'd watched her swing up onto her horse. She seemed happy on it, abet nervous at being on top of such a beast again.

They walked up and down the winding hills, thin, nearly dead grass waved merrily from between dark stones in the cold wind even though there'd been a heavy frost that morning.

Christine's face turned pink in the icy cold wind as they walked, it pressed against Erik too. But the smile that filled her face warmed him to the core.

They rode for the hour and a half until they came to the beach. Christine swung off her horse, she handed off her reigns to Erik before running to feel the salty water. She unbuttoned her sleeves, bringing them up and touched the rolling waves up on the beach, her eyes sparkled in delight.

Erik glanced around them, his hand touching his sword before he swung off his horse. He tied the horses to a nearby branch trapped under a particularly large rock. The horses neighed, he ran his gloved hands over their necks to calm them before going to join his wife.

"It feels wonderful." Christine said, when she saw Erik standing behind her. "I feel as if I could swim in it and go on and on." She stared off to the horizon, her face suddenly serious. "What do you suppose it on the other side?" She asked. "If the world is round, as some people say, there must be something on the other side."

"Cathay, I suppose." Erik murmured. "No one has sailed far enough to know."

"I wonder if anyone will someday."

Erik chuckled, watching her sober face. "I'm sure someone will. Humans are very curious creatures." He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "They must always know what it on the other side."

Her lovely face turned to him. "Yes, I suppose." Then to his surprise she began to undress, working the rest of the buttons at her sleeve, pulling off her outer dress.

"What are you doing?" He asked, aghast.

"I'm going to swim in the water." She said. "I mustn't do it after I eat, so I'm doing it now."

He stopped her from unwinding her wimple. "The water is freezing." He warned.

She grinned. "No colder than Sweden's in my childhood, the sun will dry me off. Don't worry about me, I'm a very good swimmer."

So he let her strip herself down to her shift before she dived into the water with a skill that surprised him. He began to unpack the horses while she enjoyed herself in the water.

"Erik!" She called, as he carried their lunch down the beach near where her clothes were left. "You must join me, come!"

He only tapped the mask before sitting down to watch her. She had taken her hair down from their usual style and had braided it down her back, it flung from side to side like a whip as she battled the waves. Once an enormous, strong wave pushed her back nearly to the beach. Erik rose to assist her, but she only laughed and ran into the waves again.

It was lucky that no many came to the beach this time of year, or they would have seen a very odd sight indeed. A masked man watching a nearly nude woman playing in the sea like child.

It was over two hours before she tired of her play. She ran up to Erik, her legs trembling from so much exercise. She fell next to him, laying in the cold sand, staring at the cloudless blue sky. "The sea is wonderful." She panted. "I love it, thank you!" She said, smiling as if he owned the sea and had given it to her. He smiled back, before remembering that she couldn't see.

Suddenly he had a very strange urge. He wished to tear off his mask, kiss her smiling lips, and then carry her back into the water so that he might enjoy it with her. The urge was so strong, the vision so clear in his mind it took nearly all of his willpower to resist.

_A monster. _He reminded himself. _She will leave you, and you will never love again._

She didn't seem to notice his struggle, she still preoccupied with the sky above her. "So much of the world is blue." She said philosophically. "Blue sea, blue sky. The world is filled with it." She sat up. "What food do we have?" She asked.

The vision dimmed as she ate the food they'd brought. Rich brown bread, since she liked it better than the fine white bread most nobles ate. Apples, tarts, and a meat pie filled with duck.

It dimmed farther as she turned away so that he might eat what little he wanted. He watched her carefully, but her face showed no sign of turning.

He felt a hole inside him as he watched her, a hole that vision could fill. But he was too scared to cling too it, too scared it might seep into reality. So it let it slip away, even as the hole inside him grew.

They were silent for a time, watching the sea crash up against the shore, before falling back into it's depths. They moved up the beach as the tide came in. Christine squeezed more water out of her braid, and she spoke.

"I'm pregnant."

Everything froze, whether from joy or fear he did not know. Everything seemed silent, he tried to speak, but he only croaked. Christine smiled merrily at him before going back to drying her hair.

"A baby?" He managed to gasp out, and suddenly he could hear the water again. "So soon?"

"I know." Christine shrugged, tossing her braid behind herself. "We've barely been married three months. But it's been two months since my last cycle. Lady Giry told me some early signs and I'm fairly sure."

"H-how?"

"I'm fairly sure you know how."

Erik was silent. A child, of course. It was partly what he had married her for, but so soon... He shook himself. "Forgive if I do not seem as happy as I should..." He said, realizing how silly he must sound.

Christine silenced him. "Lady Giry told me not to expect too much. She says men are always too shocked to be happy." And then she laughed, her voice dancing around him. He wished she would sing.

She began dressing herself, her shift finally dry enough, occasionally she asked for Erik's help. While he was buttoning up her sleeve, she commented. "I won't fit into these clothes soon. Pity."

He was silent, thinking of children and babies and long cold nights where he could not sleep with her in his arms because a babe would need her. He finished her sleeve. She helped him pack up what they had brought.

They talked little on the way back to the castle. Christine hadn't covered her hair again, the loose curls in her hair flew freely, drying with the salt of the sea in them. She made an off comment about a bath to clean it off on the way back, but he didn't answer.

Lady Giry greeted them when they arrived at the castle, whisking Christine away so that she might clean herself of the salt from the sea.

He sat in his room for the rest of the evening, working through more papers. He wrote a letter to his various lands on what to plant, and where, and when. He checked over his accounting books. His hands trembled, and finally he gave up trying with papers and ran down to the courtyard.

The soldiers where done with their morning training, but he worked away with his sword against invisible opponents, fighting around the courtyard, ignoring those that watched his passionate battles. Eventually a few of his knights joined him, and he dueled them fiercely, first one on one, then two against him, and then three. He fought them as if they were the feelings that plagued him and he won again and again, until finally they left for their supper. Erik continued on alone.

When his arm trembled from holding his sword, when sweat dripped from every inch of him, and the sun was setting behind him, he stopped. He threw his practice sword into it's place in the armory and went to the bathhouse. Jules had a bath ready for him, and he soaked in it for an hour, letting the water grow cold around him before he finally washed himself and came out of the room.

He went to his room, slammed the door behind him, and started when he saw Christine waiting for him on his bed.

She had a new robe now, a beautiful light blue one that suited her well. Her brown eyes were earnest as they looked at him. "Are you alright? You missed our chess match." She said calmly, as if he had not run off and left her again.

He was being horrid, he knew it. He should be happy for her, for them. He sat next to her, she touched his shoulder. "What is upsetting you?" She asked.

"I- I will miss you." He chocked out finally.

Christine blinked, and then smiled gently. "I'm not dying Erik." Her hand slid across his shoulders, she hugged him a little. "I'm going to be fine."

He did not have the courage to tell her that for eight long months he would not be able to call her to his bedside, for he no longer had the excuse of wanting an heir. It wasn't even the love they shared that night, only that she was warm and soft in his arms, and he would miss it. Miss hearing her breath slowly as she slept. Miss brushing her hair from her face while humming ballads of love in her name.

"Could... could you close your eyes?" He asked weakly.

She gave him a look that warned him not to be silly, but followed his request.

He checked that she truly could not see him, then he slipped his mask up and kissed her like he'd been longing to all day.

For a moment, everything was perfect, the way her arms circled around his neck, her hum of pleasure, his leaping joy.

But then they parted, and everything was wrong again. She waited patiently for him to tell her to open her eyes again, her cheeks rosy and a smile teasing at her lips. He slid the mask back down over his face, and in an odd emotionless voice he did not know he had he told her that he was very happy at her news, and that she had better go sleep now.

She left, looking back at him just before she opened the door to leave, but he did not call her back.

When the door closed and her steps faded, he tore off the mask and threw it against the wall, the porcelain shattering into a thousand small pieces. He blew out the few candles she had lit, curled up on his bed, and tried to sleep.

**Well, that was a long chapter! Whew! Hope you guys like it, even if Erik is a little upset over the pregnancy! He's upset because he feels like he shouldn't call her to his room because he's well, you know, deformed. The excuse he made for himself before was that he needed an heir, but not that she's pregnant, he can't make that excuse anymore, so now he feels that he can't call for her anymore and he'sa gonna miss her. ;)**

**Also, to the panicky reader. It's okay. I'm not feeling pressure, just wanted to reassure you. :D**

**Reviews make authors happy. :) What do you think of Erik's feelings.**


	16. Chapter 16

Nadir pitied the girl.

Taken from her home, married to a masked whom she knew nothing of.

She handled it well, and that he was glad of. She seemed very polite and organized, a lady through and through, even if she wasn't of noble birth.

And that was the trouble. She wasn't of noble birth. That's what the servants needed, and it was what they expected.

Antoinette didn't hold it against her, of course. Erik had picked her to run his castle when he found out that she had single handedly saved her late husband's tavern from ruin. In addition, she had made so much money that she started making loans to people in the village. She had learned quite a bit about all the trades of life, for security, being able to judge that her money would be made back and returned. As such, she had nearly run the entire region before Erik had finally hired her.

She ran Erik's castle with an iron hand, and still managed to be his lovely wife and a wonderful mother. She was an excellent judge of character and Nadir knew that Christine had passed that judgement.

Nadir even believed that Antoinette liked the girl, perhaps seeing some of herself in her. And yet the rest of the staff didn't think so. Neither did the ladies of the small court Erik had created. Nadir saw it, she had no one to speak with but Erik, Meg, Antoinette, and Nadir. The cooks hated her, the seamstresses hated her, servants hated her. The carpenter had procrastinated making the mold for her shoes until Nadir had had a very special conversation with him.

Nadir had seen her pushing the food around on her plate, eating little of it. Once Nadir had discreetly tried some of the leftovers, nearly every item had been spoiled somehow. The meat over salted, the cakes as hard as rocks. He'd been disgusted with it, but when he'd confronted Christine about it a few days after she went to the sea, she had begged him not to punish anyone.

"I understand their feelings. I don't blame them for hating me." She said cheerfully. "They have reason to think badly of me. But if you're worried about my diet, Meg makes sure that my breakfast and lunch are good, so I eat. But the tricks will fade soon." She had smiled. "I hope to win them over soon enough."

Nadir sighed. "Perhaps I ought to tell Erik." He admitted.

"You will not." Christine said, her voice suddenly hard. "He will punish them and that is not what I want. It will only harden their hearts against me. I have seen it when I traveled with my father."

But it wasn't fast enough for Nadir, though he respected her wishes. Things only worsened after the pregnancy was announced, Erik almost seemed to avoid Christine at times. Though he tried to hide it, it was clear that something was awry between them.

This only caused for the servants to rain down more of their fury on her. Meg reported that Christine's arms were constantly speckled with scabs from the wounds the seamstresses had given her, Meg had to check Christine's bed every evening for spiders, frogs and whatever else they might think of putting in them. Her dresses came back from the laundry with the hem ripped out, her favorite headclothes disappearing entirely until Meg hunted them down.

In addition, the cook that had been punished for her thieving, they defended her. Had not fetched her the day after her whipping as had been ordered. Instead they had let her rest for six days before Nadir forced her to return to the kitchen.

It was odd. Normally such a person would have been condemned in the kitchens. Erik was a popular Duke, and his servants held great love for their odd master. But the cook had been condemned by his wife. His wife had ordered the whippings, his wife had caused her pain. And so they protected her.

Nadir simply did not understand why they hated her so. He understood somewhat why the court ladies did not include her in their groups, but the servants? Surely they were happy to have one of their own rise so high.

It wasn't until Lady Giry and Meg were able to overhear a few rumors that Nadir finally understood.

"They think she is a witch." Lady Giry said one night as they lay together in bed. The woman pursed her lips and shook her head. "No, perhaps not a witch, but a vixen. They think that she has seduced his Grace for his riches, that she has poisoned his mind. After all," She added coldly. "Why would he ever marry her? A spinster woman, no noble blood, no land and no money to her name. They somehow found out that she was in a travelers groups for a time and that she learned there how to brew something in a cauldron and captured his Grace's heart."

"And so they take it out on her. I see now." Nadir murmured, and he pulled his wife a little closer. "Yes, why would anyone marry an older woman?" He teased, they had married when she had been twenty nine.

She sifted in his arms, her eyes sharp in the candlelight though her cheeks were pink. "You are not a duke."

Suddenly Nadir recalled the words that Christine had spoken just a few days earlier. "I wonder if she knows."

"Why they hate her? I'm sure she suspects." Antoinette sighed, pulling the covers a little higher, it was a cold night. "I'll give her this, she's very determined. Hasn't complained once. Hasn't even snapped at any of them. They'll come around eventually."

"It is good that she has Meg." Nadir said softly.

"It's good that Meg listens to you." Lady Giry said. "If you hadn't told her all about how much his Grace seemed to like his new wife, she might have believed all the rumors."

**Oky, this chapter is actually gonna be EVEN shorter than usual. Only about 1000 words and normally I like them to be at least 1200-1300, preferring 1500 words.**

**This is largely because of the fact that I cannot for the life of me add anything more that makes sense to be added on and is not useless drabble.**

**Also, partly because of the fact that I'm gonna have a long Authors note.**

**So, in light of the recent Covid-19 panic, I've been sewing cloth masks in my spare time to donate, in hopes of helping in what little way I can. If anyone wants to help this way too, this is the pattern I'm using. - ** id/AB-Mask-for-a-Nurse-by-a-Nurse/?fbclid=IwAR21M51TOOpuAGWyDtMiav8h5tnwdS7U8iAF8_k3Y_d0WlwsnApD0pzoG4s

**I would recommend drafting the pattern yourself on cardboard using the exact measurements someone posted in the comments. This I found to be much easier than trying to print it out in just the right size.**

**Also, if you want to donate them, and have no idea where here is a organization that is taking donations and is taking them to places that request them. - ** /volunteer

**While cloth masks are DEFINITELY not a replacement for medical masks and especially not for the special 95 ones, they can help in lower risk situations, help extend the life of medical masks by wearing them on the outside (Thus preventing them from getting dirty as fast. While also being able to be reused.) AND serve as a reminder to avoid the face.**

**I'm trying to help how I can. I am lucky, as I am not in any of the risk groups, and am perfectly healthy. Don't worry about me. Stay inside, follow social restrictions. Yes, this illness is dangerous and yes, we should be taking it seriously. Please don't cause someone in a risk group to die or get seriously injured cause you wanted to get a drink with your buddies.**

**Buuuuuut. Because I'm making masks in time that I previously was using writing, I'm not writing as much as I used to. This does not mean that I am stopping writing this story, it just means I have _less_ time to update this story, (Though now that I've given up and posted this chapter after not being able to add more to it for AGES I might start zooming ahead who knows.) so updates will slow down. *shrugs* It just how it be.**

**Okay, serious stuff aside. There are two more requests I would like to ask.**

**If anyone knows any really good Frankenstein fanfics, (I've recently reread the novel.) on any platform. (Ao3, tumblr, etc.), could you please direct me to it? (I'm looking for some T rated Frankstein's monster's bride survived scenarios but anything will do.)**

**Secondly, how is the whole castle politics vrs lady going? I'm really unsure of myself when it comes to politics and predicting what would solicit certain reactions, so I'm very hesitant about this whole business. If it doesn't makes sense I'd like to know and thus fix things. **

**I think that's it. Wow. Look at that authors note. Ha ha. Whoops.**

**Hope you all are happy and healthy! What do ya'lls think of Nadir?**

**Reviews make authors happy. :)**


	17. Chapter 17

Christine knew he was upset. Of course she did, the whole castle knew, for heaven's sake if the snake in her bed was any indication.

She just wished she knew _why._

Problems had never seemed to be troublesome for long to Christine. She had learned from a young age that as long as she treated them the right way with tact, cleverness, and strength, she could work her way through anything. If she couldn't find the source of the problem, she could use the above to quickly deduct to bend it's knowledge to her will.

Erik, however, wasn't bending, and for the first time in her life, Christine felt she was facing a problem she couldn't solve. For weeks and weeks he had said only politeness to her at dinner, avoided her attempts to join her for another chess match. He wouldn't spend any time with her at all.

What was he angry about? Had she said something coy about his mask? Had she troubled his past? She searched her memories as she lay awake at night, unable to pinpoint anything.

He was a sensitive man, though he tried to hide it behind a mask (Literally, and figuratively) of indifference and avoidance. He had to be coaxed out, like how a badly treated dog must learn to trust it's master. It would creep towards you, it's eyes filling with hope. Until one made the mistake of holding a stick the wrong way and it ran back behind it's wall of snarls and barks with it's tail between it's legs.

When Erik was offended, he too ran behind his wall. Christine finally realized one night while she stroked the small stomach that was growing, that the moment it had all begun was when she had told him of her pregnancy.

The thought had occurred to her before, but it had seemed ridiculous, he had wanted her for her child. Had married her for children, for an heir. Surely he should be happy, even ecstatic at the news. Of course, he had acted shocked and even distant at her news, but she hadn't thought much it of, even had expected for a while. But this seemed a little excessive.

And yet, for the first time that night, after six weeks of cold attentions, she began to seriously entertain the idea that her telling him of her pregnancy had started this whole mess off.

The moon shone through the glass in her window as she thought in the dark. Meg shifted in her cot at the end of the room, the wind outside howled, crashing waves against the shore and forcing the cold though the thick, stone castle walls.

Christine sighed, pressing her fingers against her forehead. Perhaps she ought to send Meg for a glass of water, her head was pounding. But it was so cold, and Lady Giry would scold Christine and Meg again if she let Meg borrow her robe once more. Meg didn't have one of her own...

Perhaps she would get it herself.

She moved out of her bed, slipping on her fur lined slippers and shrugged on her robe. She walked to the door, pressing her ear to the wood, listening.

The castle was silent, save for the shuffle of feet as the prison guard reoriented himself after the many hours he must have been standing guard. Christine opened the door, lifting it so that it would not scrape against the floor. She should speak to the carpenter about it, the door needed to be reset.

The guard turned to face her, his face staring off to the wall nervously. "Your grace?" He asked.

Christine gave a small curtsy. "I'm going to get a drink of water." She stepped forward, but the soldier blocked her.

"I'd best come with you, your Grace." He said, his face serious and firm.

Christine nodded. "Very well." And he accompanied her down the hallway, trailing a few feet behind her. The moonlight shone brightly through the windows, Christine suddenly shivered.

They walked into the courtyard, Christine's slippers making next to no sound against the stone ground, but the thump of the soldier's boots would alert anyone to their presence.

Christine walked across the courtyard to the well, it was almost as light as day, with the moonlight reflecting off the stone.

The well, when she had first first seen it, it had seemed a marvel. How on earth did they have a safe well to drink from when they were surrounded on all sides by salt water?

Erik had explained it to her, during one of their chess matches. There was a stream of clean water underground that emptied into the sea, it went deep, deeper than most streams. Originally, there had been no moat surrounding the sea, only a castle pressed up against the edge of it. The Lord that had built the castle originally had discovered the stream of water by some means, and had had the castle built around it. Erik had measured how deep it was, nearly twenty five feet, and had had the moat built to be fifteen feet deep and had lined the bottom of it with stone, so that it would not interfere with the clean water that was supplied to the well.

"Many castles have fallen because they didn't have a source of freshwater." Erik said. "I wouldn't let it happen to mine."

Christine grasped the bucket, swinging it off the stone wall of the castle and into the dark tunnel that led down, down into the spring of water. If she cocked her head the right way, she could hear the water moving down at the bottom of that well. It was almost soothing to her aching head.

She turned the handle at the side, lowering the bucket down to the bottom. When she felt it catch at the water, she let it fill, and slowly the rope creaked back up again.

The solder watched her with a bored expression, Christine smiled wryly, finally pulling the bucket up to its proper place.

She took the dipper from the side of the well and dipped it in, she drank, and her headache weakened. She dipped and drank again, feeling the cold, cool water slide down her throat, it felt good.

She offered the dipper to the soldier, but he waved it away. She set the bucket on the edge of the wall again, and they crossed the courtyard again.

It was so quiet, with the soldier's boots thumping and echoing around, it made Christine nervous. She searched around them, almost feeling at someone… or something was watching them.

Good heavens, did she really believe the stories she had heard growing up when she had been traveling so much? Fairies that would come and steal her from her parents, demons that would steal her soul, monsters that would eat her alive?

Ridiculous, really.

And then she spotted a pair of yellow eyes watching them from a dark hallway, Christine froze, the soldier also stopped behind her.

She turned to him. "You are dismissed."

He bristled. "Excuse me?"

"I have no further need of you, you are dismissed." She said, with as stern a glance as she could manage.

The soldier bowed and went back to his post, as soon as his boots had faded sufficiently,

Christine crossed her arms. "For heaven's sake, what are you doing prowling around this time of night?"

Erik slinked out from where he had been hiding in the shadows, he appeared so suddenly, so quickly that Christine almost could believe he had used some kind of magic to do it. His voice was low, and guarded. "I could ask the same of you." He said.

Christine pressed her lips together, then walked so that she was directly in front of him. She took his hand. "Can you not sleep either?" She asked as gently as she could manage, after he had appeared out of the shadows like that. It certainly was an interesting skill.

He pulled his hand away. "Come, I will escort you to your bedroom."

Christine signed, but allowed him to put one cold hand on her arm and to guide her up the stairs to her room. As they walked she spoke. "Erik, why are you acting this way?"

His voice was curt. "I haven't the faintest idea of what you are speaking of."

Christine felt fury built inside of her, but she swallowed it down and kept her voice pleasant. "Erik, we haven't been right for weeks, we don't talk as we used to, and you never let me into your room anymore. Please," she took his hand and squeezed it. "Erik, please, what vexes you? Tell me, and I will put it right."

It was the first time she had put it so bluntly, she had been afraid to. Before it had always been gentle coaxing, but now she let her eyes shine up at him a real plea. "You promised me." She said, her anger leaking into her voice. "You promised me I wouldn't just be a wife to dress and sit in the corner."

"Have I ever pushed away your opinion?" He asked, his grip on her arm tightening. "Have I ever told you to leave me?"

"No," Christine admitted. "But you have been avoiding me. Don't try to deny it, and I want to know why." For a moment, she was afraid of what he would say. Afraid that he had only paid so much attention to her because he had wanted a child, or worse yet, that he regretted marrying her… regretted punishing his child with a common woman as their mother.

They arrived at her room, and she waited outside her door, staring up at him. The solder, who had returned to his post outside her door, looked supremely uncomfortable. Christine ignored him.

Erik looked at the soldier, and then down at her. His golden eyes glittered. Suddenly he pushed open her door and pulled her inside, offering them some amount of privacy.

"Meg is asleep in here." She warned as he closed the door behind them.

"I will be quick." He said. He stood up to her, and brushed away a lock of her hair. "I've been very busy," he informed her. "Planting season is coming and I'm afraid I cannot pay the same attention to you as I did."

"But you haven't even been speaking the same way to me." Christine said, anger rising inside her again.

He heaved a heavy sigh. "Close your eyes." He finally said.

Christine pressed her lips very tightly together, but followed his instructions. A few moments later she felt his lips press against her forehead. It was soft, and gentle, she leaned into it.

He pulled away.

"I am very happy for you, and our child." He said in that same, stupidly calm voice that he had had that evening when she had first told him. That stupid, disconnected, voice, she hated it. "You had better rest." He said, and then he turned away and out of the door, leaving her alone again.

She leaned against the wall for support and thought about calling him back, but decided to sleep instead. She would think more clearly in the morning, she was never right when she missed sleep.

**Reviews make authors happy. :)**


	18. Chapter 18

He improved slightly, over the next few weeks. He talked to Christine of more than the weather, and he didn't avoid her as much as he did. But he still refused to return too their comfortable chess matches, and he still barely spent more than an hour a day in her presence.

Christine missed him. She missed their gentle conversation and their instructional chess matches. She had been growing better quickly, she even thought she had come close to beating him once. But now she only played against Meg, and the few court ladies that would speak to her. She beat them all easily, they were far easier targets than her clever husband.

She hadn't realized how much of her time was taken up by him until he became distant. To fill it, she took up the harp, practicing over the strings and singing songs along with them. Her only audience was Meg and her tutor. One of the musicians that Erik housed, she approached him, asking him to train her. He played for them often during dinner, and she found that she liked his playing the best.

He praised her often, always, even when she made mistakes, even when she played so horribly it made herself shudder. Meg gave her more valuable critiques after he left.

"You must play that section without hesitating." She would say, her eyes closed and her head cocked to one side as she listened. "You're playing much too loudly, it's a love song, not a war ballad!" Or even- "Good heavens, is that thing tuned?"

Christine made slow progress with Meg's help. The strings felt clumsy in her fingers, she was not used to such fine work. She was used to hauling wood, cleaning rooms, and helping wherever she was needed.

Sometimes she missed not having to do fine work. Sometimes all she wished to do was to help with the laundry and cleaning of rooms, and directing where nobles should stay, and the simple joy in life.

And yet... there was Meg, a true friend, and Erik. She liked Lady Giry, even if the woman was intimidating, and Nadir wasn't bad either.

And there was the baby... it was now plain through her stomach that she was pregnant. She often rubbed it, thinking of the baby inside, and feeling warm and happy.

No, she would never go back to her old life, not if it meant leaving the child behind. Her baby, whom she already loved so very much... Sometimes her arms ached to hold it, to pull it close to herself. To kiss it's head and sing it lullabies.

But the baby would come in it's own time, not hers, and she was barely four months pregnant.

By now Lady Giry had shown her around the castle, she now knew the ins and outs of everything, and now there was nothing she could do. Lady Giry still ran everything with an efficient hand, and if she thought something should concern Christine, she brought it to her, but by and large the daily running of the household was done by Lady Giry and Lady Giry alone.

Christine didn't think it helped her reputation. They thought that she was too weak and frightened to run her own household, that she wasn't worthy of their service.

Well, she was frightened. She was terribly frightened by the whole of it. By the fifty six servants that worked directly under Erik's hand, of the twenty nine rooms in the castle. (Not counting the outer walls towers where the servants, musicians, and artists stayed.) The stacks and stacks of gold and silver coins that were shelled out and taken in. The whole thing frightened her terribly. She feared the day she must take it over herself. She feared the day when she would have to face them all head on, as she did in the courtyard.

She was used to familiar and friendly faces. Distant and apart they might be, they had always held smiles and spoke encouraging words. Here, she was guarded by Meg, Lady Giry, to some extent Nadir, and dear Erik. Even if he didn't know it, even if he was still distant. Beyond them, stone faces, poisonous words at the tips of their tongues.

The artists and musicians didn't seem to mind so much, but they were men, men and more men. They came and left. Some would barely speak a word to her they were so afraid of her. Most simply praised her, her beauty, her kindness, her clothes, her status, and everything. The friendly German painter who had taken down her picture had left, gone to paint some church in Paris. Christine wished him well.

But none of that, the loneliness, the overly polite artists, the large and intimidating castle, was why she wasn't running it. It was all frightening, and made her ache inside, yes. She was certain she would become used to it. It was- well-

She was too afraid to speak to Lady Giry about it.

Maybe they were right. Maybe she was too terrible and cowardly to run the castle herself. But Lady GIry had worked there so long, nearly fifteen years, it was her home. It was where she had built up the staff and the servants... Erik himself had appointed her. Surely, surely he wanted her there.

Or perhaps he had simply not thought to ask her to leave.

But whenever Christine tried to speak to Erik of deeper topics than painting, music, the weather, he steered away. Whenever she thought to bring it up with Lady Giry, her eyes saw the pressed, tight, stern lips of the woman, and Christine's heart failed her. She could not bear to offend the woman, she did so much good, no doubt she thought of the Black Land's castle of her home. And to push a woman out of her home... Christine could not do it. She could not be so cruel, and she wouldn't let Nadir think so badly of her. Imagine, asking his own wife to leave her position!

And so she said nothing, did nothing, and practiced the harp until her fingers raw and her mind anxious from sitting for so long.

Perhaps that was what led her to start riding more often.

She'd noted, on her ride to the beach with Erik, that she had become almost laughably incompetent at riding again.

To keep up her skills, and to help with her restlessness, she began riding regularly. Meg came with her, more often than not, and they would cover the span of the Dark Land's hills, before stopping to eat a little and ride back.

Lady Giry disapproved. "You ought not to be moving so much during you pregnancy. They say that too much movement causes one to miscarry."

Christine always replied with a smile and a little joke. "They also say if I look at a dog during my pregnancy, I shall bear a beast. Mary gave birth a month early to healthy boy despite spending the entire pregnancy helping with the castle. I'll be fine."

Besides, she was truly growing to love riding. With the blue sky above her and the thin grass and dark stone beneath her, she truly free. Not at all trapped with a castle household that hated her, and all the responsibilities that she could not fulfill. She often rode along the sea, thinking of the last time that her and Erik's relationship had been normal.

One evening after lunch, she was hurrying down the castle steps. She wanted to take a ride by herself, but as quickly as she was going down, she saw Erik hurrying up.

Quickly, she changed plans.

As usual, Erik bowed his head when he spotted her, standing to the side so that she could pass. But she stopped at his side, grasping his arm so that he couldn't escape.

"Will you go riding with me?" She asked.

His golden eyes behind his mask widened with what almost seemed like panic, going from her face to her stomach.

"I wish you wouldn't." He finally said, looking away, up the stairs as he said it. He swallowed.

Christine bristled. "Wouldn't do what? Talk to you?" She said a little harsher than she'd meant to.

He shook his head, still gazing to the top of the stairs. "I wish you wouldn't go riding."

Christine blinked. "Lady Giry talked to you?" She asked, deadpanned.

"She did mention... do you think it is worth the risk?" He asked, looking down at her again.

Christine snorted. "There is no risk. For heavens sake, Mary, gave birth to a healthy child though she'd been running around the manor helping me." Christine said. "Yes, during the last months of the pregnancy I'll rest but I've barely been pregnant for more than four months."

Erik hunched over, muttering something about how Lady Giry had given birth to many children.

Anger flared in Christine, but she strove to control it. "Could we play a chess match then, if not tonight than perhaps tomorrow?" Perhaps that would settle him.

Instead, he only hunched a little more, his arm twitched in her hand. "I- I am very busy." He finally said. "I cannot, I'm sorry. I just-" He glanced at Christine and faltered when he saw her face.

"I'm truly sorry." He whispered.

Christine felt her throat clog, and she swallowed it down, blinking rapidly. "O-of course." She said, releasing Erik's arm. "You have much to watch over of course. I understand."

And with that she hurried down the stairs, ready to ride until the castle was only a spot in a never ending horizon.

**Woot! Another chapter done. Written in bits and pieces, hopefully cohesive.**

**Reviews make authors happy. :)**


	19. Chapter 19

Erik jumped at the knock at his door, sending a stream of ink across the page he had been writing on. He set aside the quill, dabbing at the stain before it settled. He stood, perhaps it was Jules, asking if he wanted anything final-

Christine's voice echoed through the door. "You had better get your mask on, I am coming in." Her voice left no room for argument.

Erik jumped, spinning round his room, finally finding his mask where he had tossed it on the bed after supper. His hand fumbled with the familiar ties. Must she? Must she try and try to reach him. Why was she so concerned, yes, he had no longer had much time to spend with her and yet...

He lit a few more candles before opening the door, surprised to see Christine. Her eyes were red, tears stains still on her cheeks. She was dressed in her robe, his eyes crept down to her stomach, where he could barely see the child poking out.

The thought of being a father still made him light headed. Every time he saw her touch his stomach he would long to reach out and stroke it. The closest thing he could to reach his child.

But he held himself back.

At first, he couldn't bear the sight of her. The thought that he had taken the risk of spreading his deformity. The shame made him feel sick. He began avoiding her, skipping their chess matches so that he could hide from his shame.

Oh, he hadn't admitted it to himself at the time. All kinds of excuses had come up in his mind. He was far too busy with spring coming. He had been neglecting his sword practice, as their chess matches had taken up too much time. He had often heard the woman of the castle complain. How their husbands would call them to their beds far too often, surely she wanted some time alone, surely she wanted peace when she was pregnant.

They were all excuses so that he didn't have to see her, didn't have to think about the thing he had done.

Eventually the sight of her didn't fill him with horror as it used to, but by then avoiding her had become habit. Habit to think that she was happier without him. Habit to refuse her requests for him to ride with her. He really was a busy man, it was easy to avoid her with all he had to do.

She seemed happy enough. (Or so he told himself.) She had Meg and all the women of the court, she was happy! Of course she was, without a monster like him bothering her every minute of her day.

But then that night had come. Her hand tightly grasping his, her watery brown eyes shining in the moonlight. Just as her eyes shone up at him now. Only it was worse, because she had already cried, and she looked as though she might do so again.

"Are you ill?" He asked hurriedly. "Come I will send for-"

"I am not ill." She snapped, and she stepped inside. "I've been crying."

Erik flinched, watching her march over to his bed, she sat on it firmly. She set her watery eyes on his. "I'm not moving until you tell me why you've paid so little attention to me since I told you of our child."

Erik shut the door behind him. "It's nothing-"

"It is not nothing." She spat, a tear trickled down her face. "There is something, you've been avoiding me. You barely speak to me, and even then it's not as it used to be. You never call me to your room anymore, and I-" She choked back a sob. "I- I miss you. I miss-" Another tear fell.

Erik opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted suddenly. "Listen, I- I know I am only a commoner. I know I shouldn't ask such things of you. If it had been this way from the beginning, I wouldn't expect- I didn't expect- But then you were so wonderful and-"

She shook her head, hunching over her hands, which were twisting around themselves. "It doesn't matter. I won't expect so much attention again. But I just realized tonight, perhaps- you regretted- and then I knew I had to settle the matter." She looked up. "Do you want to annul our marriage?" She finally said.

Erik went cold, from his fingertips to the edges of his toes, the cold crept in filling him. Then it broke, and it was swirling inside of him. He watched Christine like a halfwit.

She blinked, waiting for a few moments. Then slowly continued. "I understand- I'm sure we could find some family tree relation... if you wanted..." Christine said with her red rimmed eyes, only now she was watching him with confusion, not sadness. She was oblivious to the rising storm inside him. "I know that you'd want a noble mother for the child, not a commoner. Just, if you don't want the child," her hand went to her stomach, she hunched over again. "could you let me keep it? I could return to the-"

The storm spilled out before he could stop it. Wanting to halt such treacherous words. "Stop!"

Christine's head snapped up, her eyes filling with confusion. "I'm sorry? What-"

"Stop. No- stop stop talking!"

She stared at him, eyes wide and confused. She watched his hands trembling, trying to find something to do. They ran through his dark hair, smoothed out the wrinkles in his tunic.

"Excuse me?" She whispered.

Erik shook his head. "No- don't say such things. Never say them. I don't- why. Why would you say such things?"

She stared at him. "I thought it was what you wanted. You were so distant, perhaps, you wanted and you were too polite-"

"No. I want none of it. None of it. I thought it was what you wanted." He explained hurriedly, his hand were shaking so hard, nearly as hard as the night he had run from the King's castle.

She looked at him, her red rimmed eyes scanning him from his head to the floor. "I want to be with you." She whispered.

He didn't allow himself to hope. "B-but why?"

She stood. "Because I'm your wife. Because you are my husband. Because you are my dearest friend. And-" She inhaled. "I love you."

Now it was his turn to stare.

She was blushing crimson, hiding her face in her hands and turning away, but she went on. "But of course I understand if you want an annulment. You should have a noble wife not-"

"Please- stop stop stop talking!" He said. She looked at him through her hands.

Erik ran forward to her, he knelt before her. Afraid she would say more terrible things. Suggest again that he would ever have to be without her- "No, never leave, never go." He grasped her fumbling hands and tucked them under his chin, needing to feel her against him. That she was not going. Hot tears spilled underneath the mask. "I need you." He gasped. "Please, never go, never leave. Never go."

He looked up at her, her face going in and out of focus as more tears fell. "I love you, never go Christine. I love you."

The shock in her eyes made him panic again. What if she didn't want it? What if she didn't want his love? He threw his arms around her waist and sobbed. "I know I am ugly, I know I am worthless, but I will do anything to please you. Please, never leave me. Please, I will give anything- anything."

Her hands touched his hair, then began stroking it, and he wept harder with relief. He clung tighter, relishing her touch.

"Erik- do you want to take your mask off?" She asked absently, her voice dazed. "We can blow out the candles, continue in the dark. Then you could cry easier-"

Erik jumped up to his feet, grinning from ear to ear. "You will stay, you will not leave your Erik?"

She had been crying again, the tears streaming down her cheek, but she was smiling too. "Not unless you want me to..." She whispered hoarsely.

He shook his head rapidly. "Erik does not wish it, he does not." Erik ran to the candles, realizing too late he could not blow them out. "Will Christine..."

She was at his side in a moment, her pretty, perfect, wet, face shining in the candlelight. She blew them out one by one, when the last of the smoke blew from the last one Erik tore off his mask, tossing it onto the table.

He saw her reaching blindly for his hand. He grasped hers, sobbing and kissing her hand, up her arm, though she wore sleeves. Her arms twisted around his neck, and then they were kissing each other, both crying, both afraid to let go.

When they stopped, holding each other, and crying. Christine spoke.

"I assume you don't want an annulment then?"

He slumped, resting his head on her shoulder. "No."

She released a long breath. "Erik, why did you become so distant, if it wasn't because you regretted our marriage. I know it has something to do with our child… but-"

They settled on the bed together until they were comfortable in each other's arms. And he told her of his shame, then belief that she did not want him.

At this her head rose from his chest and she looked up at him. "I will always want you." She told him firmly. "You are my husband… of course I want you."

He choked back a sob of relief, though the room was so dark that even he had trouble seeing, he felt it was bright as the sun. She loved him! She wanted to be with him always!

"Ah, but I did not know that." He murmured, leaning down to brush a brief kiss on her lips.

She smiled as he pulled away. "Perhaps we ought to tell each other these things." She murmured. "I wouldn't want this to happen again."

He chuckled darkly, while holder her all the tighter to him, her head settled back onto his chest. He pressed his lips to the curls of her hair. "Neither would I." He whispered.

**Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! This chapter is FINALLY DONE! *runs around in circles screaming* I had the hardest time figuring out some good motivation for Erik. I can't believe I've spent all these chapters building up how Erik is avoiding Christine, she's sad, awwww. And I never ONCE thought. "You know, what would actually cause all this stuff."**

**And I KNOW that I gave a reason (Sorta) in the chapter where she admits the birth of her child. But it was just that- a sorta reason. And sorta rasons are not good enough.  
Hopefully this was all sense making. Was this a good resolution to the last three-ishy chapters?**

**Reviews make authors happy. :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**Note, if there are any corrections needed with this scene, let me know. ****I'm not Catholic, and I've never attended mass**** I know that morning mass was regularly attended every morning, but I could find little to no information on morning medieval mass in the internet, though there is some information of regular Sunday mass. I did the best I could but obviously it's not perfect. . :)**

The morning light streamed through the colored window at the head of the building. It shone through the building, illuminating the crisp, early morning air. The window it shone through was made by fine artists, hired and surveyed by Erik himself, depicting the Christ child with his mother. It was a fine work of art, the finest window in Northern France, save for what laid in Paris itself.

The building too, was beautiful. Finely carved stone supported the roof. Wooden benches, their wood imported from the finest woods in Germany, laid in perfect rows. They were so finely sanded that worshipers never needed worry of splinters. The ends depicted scenes from the bible. The pulpit where the priest stood on that fine morning glistened, freshly cleaned, letting each detail of it's own intricate scenes shine to the audience.

Erik paid attention to none of this. Neither did he look at the cotton like clouds passing by overhead against a sky as blue as the pleasant sea below. The grass that was blowing gently in the wind, creating ripples likes the sea not far beyond it. His ears heard not the Birds chirped from their nests, newly make in unseen places in the stone.

The priest was speaking of something, but Erik did not hear him either, nor did he focus his eyes on the priest throughout the sermon as he should have.

His focus, was his wife.

His eyes constantly crept to the edge of his mask, where it hindered his vision, to see the curl of Christine's mouth. Her eyes were staring obediently ahead at the priest, just as they should have, but Erik was sure she was paying no more mind to the man of God than he was.

For one thing, she had allowed him to hold her hand throughout the whole meeting, though it was always carefully hidden beneath their skirts. For another, her eyes, while seeming to be focused on the priest, in truth was focusing on nothing at all. Erik stroked he back of her hand with his thumb, her smile deepened.

When Erik had woke with her in his arms, he had nearly wept with relief. He had clung to her still sleeping body, burying himself in her comforting warmth. In the minutes before dawn, he had taken the opportunity to take in every curve and hill in his wife's face as he had not been able to in months. He had noticed the morning light then, it framed his wife's face perfectly.

The meeting finished after an age, the congregation stood to leave. As discreetly as he could, Erik loosened his hand from Christine's. They stood, Erik put an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. She relaxed into the motion, her head settling comfortably against his shoulder.

The priest called them back, Erik frowned beneath his mask as they headed towards the man. Christine seemed confused as well, her lips pressed tightly together, her hand settled on her stomach. He'd noticed that was where her hand settled most, recently.

They waited, the priest arranged a few things on his pulpit before walking down the steps. He glanced at Erik before turning to Christine. By now the building was empty. "Your Grace." He said. "I understand that you have taken up riding?"

Christine frowned, Erik saw the same annoyance that had appeared when he had spoken to her of the same topic take form. "Yes, what of it?"

"You have been riding by yourself along the countryside?"

She blinked. "Yes, occasionally. When Meg cannot join me."

The priest shook his head, sighing heavily. "My dear, such things are not for women. Especially for woman such as yourself, you are putting you and your child in grave danger. What if you fell and began labor? We could not help you. Or what if you were captured for your ransom, or taken advantage of? You must not ride alone, it is not seemly."

Erik heard Christine give a little huff, and she stood straighter. "And if I want to be alone? I take those rides for their solitude. I cannot find it anywhere else."

The priest smiled sadly. "Your Grace, is solitude worth the risk of losing your child?"

Christine slumped a little, Erik's hand tightened at her waist. "Perhaps short rides might be permitted?" Erik asked, keeping his voice pleasant. "So long as she stays within view of the castle?"

Another shake. "No chances must be taken. She must have someone with her if she rides."

"Maybe now you'll take up my offer to ride with me?" Christine said, her eyes displaying the growing mirth inside them. She did not wait for his answer, and turned back to the priest. "Very well, I will no longer ride alone. I will not endanger our child."

The priest smiled. "Good, and thank you, your Grace."

* * *

"You give in too easily."

Christine's gentle smile returned as they walked out of the church. "Oh?"

Erik shook his head. "I do not like how the church dictates such things. Surely if it was such a concern, it would have been mentioned in the bible-"

His wife interrupted him. "Whether it is his right, or not, his words are true in one area. I am a woman of significant standing now, if I was captured, or if I was injured and unable to return..." She stopped to wave to one of the passing ladies and returned to their conversation. "I will not take such risks. Though-" Here she squeezed him, pulling him closer. "I do expect you to ride with me at least once or twice now."

"I would have done so anyway." Erik said, releasing a heavy breath. He stopped to help her up the steps into the castle. "Now... now that I understand that... well." He sighed.

Christine finished the sentence. "Take joy in your presence? Want it every day, and miss it with all my heart when it is gone?" Her eyes blinked coyly up at him.

He was positive that she meant it as a joke, but he still hunched over, as if to steady himself against the shame the sentence brought. "I'm sorry."

She stopped in the hallway, giving a quite glance around the empty hallway before sneaking a kiss against his jaw. "No matter. We have solved it now." Her eyes were serious as she pulled away. "However, may I request something?"

Erik continued them on their walk. "Anything."

"I think... I would like..." Christine huffed and pressed her lips together. "A guarantee, of sorts. That there will be a portion of every day that we send together. Alone. Or at least somewhat."

"I am a busy man, that is true..." Erik warned, but Christine waved her hand.

"Oh course there will be days you will be gone traveling, or days where you are busy. But even a few minutes would suffice..." Christine shook her head. "Lady Valerious and her husband always took their lunch together, to take the time to discuss what is needed." She looked up at him. "Is there any time where we could regularly meet?"

Erik shrugged. "I will think on it, but why-" He stopped, thinking of the good month and a half where both of them had never spoken more than small conversation to each other, simply because they both could not 'find the time'. "Ah." He finished lamely. "Yes, I see. Perhaps it would be wise..."

Christine giggled. "I remember, I kept on thinking- 'if only there was a time where I was sure I could capture your attention alone, where you could not escape', I could have cleared the whole matter up." She shook her head. "Hence why I was always asking for more time with you."

It did seem a good idea. And yet, as he thought through his day, he could not come with a time. "My day is so irregular..." He murmured. "One day I am grading papers, the next, I must travel, or settle disputes..."

Christine squeezed his hand. "I used to bring you food every evening, and play chess." She suggested, her eyes bright. "Perhaps that would suffice?"

Erik shook his head. "Not in the spring."

"Well, think on it please." She smiled up at him. He longed to reach down and kiss her lips.

Instead, he gave her assurance, he clasped her hands and brought them up to what would have been his mouth. "I will." He promised.

The solution came to him that evening, just a few hours before bed. He searched his room until he found an old mask which had a piece broken off at the bottom. Carefully with a knife he carved it to his needs.

Then he stood in front of his small mirror, and nodded in satisfaction. The mask covered his entire face, save for his mouth. He'd always thought his mouth looked normal enough, if a little thin and grey. He wouldn't want to wear it in public, but alone with his wife...

He proposed his idea to her the moment the door closed behind her. "We will take breakfast together." He explained, holding up the new mask eagerly. "To take place of the suppers you bring, and I shall be able to eat with you."

Her eyes had warmed, lips curled into a wide smile, her hands settling on her slightly swollen stomach.

"It's a perfect solution." She praised. "I couldn't have thought of anything better myself." A boyish pride puffed him up, filling him like good wine. He hadn't felt this way since Giovanni had taken him under his arm.

Only, he thought as Christine put out the lights, the reward was even more sweet.

**This story just hit 10,000 reads! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing this story. I really appreciate it!**

**Reviews make authors happy. :)**


	21. Chapter 21

**Okay, so. Prepare for a long author's note explaining stuff.**

**O Desperado Sweetie O posed some valid questions on the story, and since they are (Sadly.) not going to be explained in the story. I thought I might as well answer them here.**

**Firstly: On the pregnancy reveal chapter-** "**It is the middle of winter and she is playing in the ocean for 2 hours. She would have gotten hypothermia in a matter of minutes, unless she was born and raised in the water."**

**Valid questions. However, it is no longer in the dead of winter. Christine and Erik were married in mid-January, and three- *goes back and checks the chapter* yeah, three months since their marriage. So it is now Mid-March. France generally has very mild winters and cool summers. So i assumed it would be more plausible.**

**Though that might had been different 800 years ago, weather patterns slightly different... maybe... Oh no no no no. I love researching and learning about history, and I always try to make my stories historically accurate, but I am not THAT dedicated. Let's just say that the weather is generally the same as it is now.**

**So yeah. it's march, and according to google the ****temperatures**** would be aboooouut 41-52 F. So cold. And research on google says that you can get hypothermia at 50 degrees. Herm.**

**Okay, so the way I'm justifying it is that it was a ****particularity**** warm and sunny day. (Say 55-60 F) Plus, Christine was born in Northern Sweden, where in the winter temperatures can reach -40 F. I grew up in a place were the winters were pretty cold. Usually 10 F or so. I later moved to a warmer area and to this day, what other people consider freezing is just eh to me. I guess something similar is happening here.**

**Though I will admit Erik probably should have had a fire going for her to warm up next to, and maybe I shouldn't have had her play in it for so long. Stuff to be fixed in the next draft. Thanks for pointing it out!**

**Next Question: On the make up chapter- "****Why did he (Erik) refer to himself in the 3rd person?"**

**This is a reference to the original novel, which I have read the English translation of. Erik pretty much speaks in third person 24/7 (Possibly to show that he doesn't really know how to talk properly, since he's never been around people. But probably to make him sound more crazy.) and is one of the many (OH SO MANY reasons.) reasons Christine is so creeped out by him. I like to include this as a reference to the original novel.**

**However, as a****ll of my stories are****'what if''s, (As in 'what if Erik was more mentally stable'.), he has since learned to speak in first person (As he grew older and spent more time around people.), but tends to slip into it when he's under a lot of emotional stress. (Like he was in that chapter.)**

**Hopefully this clears up any confusion!**

It had always been a secret pride of Christine that her waist was thin and trim. How much of her pride depended on this she did not know until her stomach swelled to the size of a ball. It was almost alarming how quickly she grew after the first four months. She was reminded of the time around fourteen, when she had grown four inches in three months, and suddenly her dress felt tight in uncomfortable places.

The same happened now. It was lucky the dressmakers had figured on her pregnancy, several of her under dresses had to be extended, her over dresses were loose enough to not require extension. Even her night robe, which Christine had always thought very large on her, barely went over her stomach.

One night, seven months in to the pregnancy, her hands tugged the edges in an attempt to gain some of the original fit back as she snuck across the hallway to take breakfast in Erik's room. She gave a might pull, before she knocked as quietly as she could as she waited for it to open

Erik appeared, his new clever mask on his face. Just behind him, Christine saw the breakfast tray was inside, the oatmeal still steaming. A quick kiss, now allowed by the new mask, and he let her inside.

Slowly Christine climbed into bed, Erik brought the tray and then they ate together. They chatted of what had happened the day before, what they planned to do that day, whatever came into their heads. Throughout it all Christine tugged at her robe, her hands smoothing it down as much as possible.

Erik didn't eat much, he never did. A few bites of porridge one morning, a piece of toast another, maybe accompanied by a few slices of an apple. No matter how Christine coaxed and scolded he simply kissed her forehead and smiled, saying. "I do not need as much food as my little wife and child."

She liked his new mask, that it allowed her to see him smile, liked that now she could guess easier at his emotions now that his mouth twitched this way and that. She did not like seeing the tray half empty when it was eventually taken away, though she had eaten as much as she hold at Erik's insistence.

After the tray was gone, Christine and Erik sat together on their beds, simply enjoying each other's company. Erik's hand settled on her stomach. Her head settled on his neck. For a few minutes they had peace. Then Erik stirred, murmuring that he must get on with the day. Before Christine would go back across the hall to be dressed, Erik kissed her. Not just a quick chaste kiss, but a long kiss that left Christine smiling and rosy, and Erik a bit dazed.

Then Christine floated back across the hallway to be dressed, feeling like the most beautiful woman in the world.

* * *

Christine knew little about sword fighting, but it was easy for even her to tell that her husband was very skilled. It was easy for anyone, watching him fight his way across a mock battlefield, carving a path behind him.

The Duke of the Black lands was vigorous about keeping his knights and men well trained. Daily practice was not only encouraged but required. Every day, for at least a few hours each afternoon, you could expect to see the castle's men clashing out in the courtyard before retreating into the bath houses to warm themselves.

However, during the summer, The Duke regularly set up tournaments that anyone, not just his knights could join. They were grand affairs, lasting from three days, full of prizes, honor, and injuries.

The summer was peppered with them, time was measured by how long it had been from the last fair, and how long until the next. The days had slipped by in a whirl of celebration and gaiety. And kisses, for Christine, at least.

However, autumn came, as did harvest. For weeks, the serfs worked in the fields, reaping in springs work. Erik traveled around his land, leaving Christine behind again, managing during the busy fall. Finally, after weeks of work filling barns and cellars, everyone was ready for a bit of fun.

After Erik hosted the largest tournament of the year, lasting a full week. This was, as Christine was told, the grandest affair of the year. The surrounding Barons, Earls and Lords came to compete, watch and socialize.

Their wives came too.

There were four ladies, two Baronesses, a Countess, and very respected Lady. They held Christine at an arms length at first. But Christine treated them as well as she knew how, and they gave her the benefit of a doubt. Christine even went to the festivities with them a few times. For Christine had, for the first time in two months, allowed to strain herself and join in on the fun.

The first three days had been dedicated to one on one fights, and jousting. A dozen or so smaller arena's were set up for fights, and a larger one for the jousts. Just the week before, any man, if he was not a knight, could sign up with their name to join in on the fights. They were then sorted out alphabetically, with each small arena being sectioned a portion of the alphabet.

Erik would hire people to record the results of fights, doubling as mediators. Those who won would continue to fight until only a few men remained. At the end of the third day, prizes were given to many of the winners. The purpose of this was to help discover anyone with a talent for sword fighting, it was known that by competing, you might be called by the Duke for reinforcements if there was an attack.

At the same time, jousting went on between the knights on the other end. It took Christine quite some time to get over the lurch of fear in her stomach as she watched the men hurtle towards each other with their lances head out menacingly. There were no official prizes given, but often woman would give men they admired small gifts. And sometimes it was prearranged that something of one knight would be given to the other if he lost.

In other courts, Christine knew that knights could lose their entire suit of armor, and their sword if they lost. This was a tragedy to any knight, often the chain mail, helmets and sword they wore were passed down from their fathers, and they would not be able to obtain another. Erik, thankfully, did not allow this.

"Far too much can go wrong in a fight, that is not in fault of the rider." He would say to anyone who argued against his policy. "The purpose of these fights are to train, not to win a boon. I want my knights to be able to sharpen their skills without fear of losing their swords."

At the end, the winner was declared, and given a special seat at the end of the table that night. This final celebration was normally where the celebrations would end. But as it was autumn, it went on.

Over the next three days, archery, hand to hand combat, wrestling, racing, even a swimming race down by the ocean. The knights fought one on one on foot. Winners were once again given prizes, sometimes a place at the table with the Duke himself if they preformed well enough.

Throughout the tournament, rows and rows of stands were set up by shop keepers. People would come in to sell their goods, it was a perfect time with so many merry people. Food, dye, jewelry, carvings, drink, shoes, spices, trinkets, cloth, and thread. Many traders to come and set up their goods. The local tavern set up a large canopy and sold a meal and wine for a silver coin. Many farmers came in for a day to buy necessary items and to watch the fight.

On the morning of the first day, Erik had pressed a bag of money in Christine's hands, in addition to the kiss they usually shared. It amounted to quite a bit more than she expected. The visiting woman, and Meg, suggested she buy a few jewels to begin a collection. With that decided the group of woman went through the market until they found a suitable vendor.

At first Christine had been mystified at the dozens of brooches, necklaces, bracelets, rings, and lockets. The ladies and their maidservants were almost more a hindrance than a help. Each one had an opinion on what looked best on her, and what she should buy. The stall keeper was little help either, suggesting his entire stock to her. Earrings Christine's group steered her away from. Eventually, after quite some time, she bought two brooches, one locket, and a ring. She also bought a silk scarf, beautifully embroidered to be sent as a gift to Lady Valerius, several other little gifts were also bought to be sent to everyone back... home.

She had to admit, the word tasted odd on her lips. She had only been away a little more than eight months, but already the black lands had taken the title of "home" in her mind. The rocky hills, dark castle had taken a place in her heart, as well as the friends she had made, and the ones she hoped to make it.

The final, largest event in the week long event was the melee. It was commonly a fight against two forces, each one against each other for a long as possible.

In Erik's court, these fights were enormous, he had a whole field reserved for the purpose. One Baroness commented that the Black Duke never did anything halfway. Two veritable small armies would be gather, composed of knights, free-man, and those who had done well enough in the aforementioned fights to join. There were two sides, defined by the blue and red sashes they wore. They would fight a mock fight, but a battle. The two sides would throw themselves at each other until none of the other color remained standing.

This was the only fight that Erik participated in. It was here Christine watched anxiously from her place on the stands, watching him loom over the other men (Wearing a red sash) working through a swath of blue. Behind him, the red worked to keep the path open. She couldn't help but worry, despite knowing that all weapons were wooden, and it was only a mock fight. There were still many injuries possible. Broken ribs, arms, ankles, legs. The thought of these kept her breathless as the battle progressed.

In the few moments before the fight began, Christine had given him a handkerchief and a breathless kiss against his jaw. His golden eyes behind the mask had been serious, but comforting as he tucked the cloth in his pocket.

Next to her, Meg watched just as anxiously as Christine. Not only was her father participating, but her oldest brother was now joining the fight for the first time (Both blue). Christine also knew one of the younger knights had a handkerchief from her as well, though she wasn't sure which.

The Baronesses, Countess and Lady watched just as anxiously for their husbands. They held each other's hands, supporting each other in their worry. One of Christine's hands, more often than not, lay on her swollen stomach, as if to comfort the unborn child. Lady Giry was organizing the healers on the sidelines, ready to help any injuries that may come from the battle. Serious injuries were treated right away.

The "battle" lasted two hours, red overcame blue. Christine felt as though she breathed for the first time in those two hours when she saw Erik walk unhindered across the field, depositing his sword in the proper place before heading off to wash in a small designated area.

"Oh, oh look!" Meg grasped Christine's hand, she pointed to the field. "Paul is hurt!" Sure enough, Nadir and another man were supporting Meg younger brother across the field to the waiting healers. "Let us go to him." She cried.

Christine followed Meg down from the viewing stand into the field, where the ladies were flooding onto the field.

They worked their way through the growing crowd, till they came to Paul. Lady Giry was already by his side, as well as healer, who was feeling Paul's leg.

"Oh, is it broken?" Meg gasped. A broken leg that didn't heal correctly could make a man a cripple for the rest of his life.

Lady GIry shook her head. "No, it was hurt, but there is no break, thankfully." Despite her cool tone, Christine saw the hand that held her sons was white as sheets. "He also took quite the hit to his stomach, it will be very badly bruised."

Meg fussed over her brother, who looked nearly as pale as his mother despite the fact he had inherited his father's caramel skin. The healer only looked over him for a few more moments before moving on. Christine moved on as well, walking slowly through the jostling crowd.

She went to the washing tent, waiting outside it's door respectfully. One of the senior passed by her to enter, then stopped and turned to face her. "Are you looking for The Duke?" He asked, Christine nodded, and he continued. "He already left, I don't know where. He seemed in a hurry."

Christine smiled. "Thank you." And she left the tent.

Where was Erik? And where had he gone? Christine had hoped he would return to her after the battle, but perhaps he had something else to do. He had been vert busy these past week, making sure everything ran smoothly. She returned to Meg's side, where Nadir and his two sons had joined the company around Paul.

Paul was brought back to the castle, Christine remained with the rest of Nadir's family until she saw the sun streaking straight through the window. She excused herself to dress for the great feast that would come that night. Meg offered to come to help, but Christine told her to stay. She could dress herself well enough in her new clothes.

When she opened the door, she let out a small shriek. On the bed lay a bolt of silk, red, with gold thread woven to create a pattern of leaves. On top were spools of silk thread. It nearly glowed in the sunlight coming through her window.

The door across the hallway flew open, Erik's voice was sharp. "What is it?"

Christine turned to see him half dressed for the feast, she held back the urge to laugh. "Did you buy the bolt of fabric?" She asked.

He relaxed. "Ah. Yes. I asked Nadir to go through the stands and have the best of the stuff set aside, but I only had to time to look at it after the melee." He hunched a little, his eyes pleading behind his mask. "D-do you like it?"

She laughed. "Yes, of course I do. Thank you!" Christine ran across the hallway, wrapping her arms around his neck, peppering his chin and neck with kisses. "And the money too. You are spending a fortune on me." She informed him between kisses.

Erik stumbled back from her embrace,"Y-yes. I- the clothier said you-you might need another dress. I'll be going to spend some time in the Kings court next year, you will need a court gown. The cost, I admit is a dent-dent but I had some saved up, and it will last you a good many years to come."

Christine quieted. "The King's court?" She asked.

Erik ducked his head. "Yes, he wants to introduce my bride to court. As such..." He shrugged. "I thought you might like a new dress."

Her heart was touched, her hand reached out and touched his. "You are going through an awful amount of trouble for me."

He shrugged again.

**Even without the gargantuan author's note, this is by far the longest chapter I've ever written for this novel. 2,700 words! Hope you guys enjoyed it. The tournament was really fun to figure out, along with the market.**

**Good thing Erik bought her the dress, she's going to need every advantage she gets in court. ;)**

**Reviews make authors happy! :)**


	22. Chapter 22

"I feel as big as a cow." Christine groaned, covering her face with her hands.

Meg's words were calm. "And you will be thin as a reed again, after the baby comes."

Christine groaned, and rolled on her side to face Meg, her hands running over her swollen belly. "I cannot escape boredom! It was bad enough before, when I couldn't ride and only move around the apartment. But my heavens, I've been in this bed for three weeks. I missed that "

Meg hummed and nodded, she bit the end of her pink thread, she was embroidering the edge of a dress her father had gifted her for her eighteenth birthday. She had learned by now to accept Christine's complaining with little to no comment.

"At least Erik comes back today." Christine continued. "Oh I wish I could have gone with him! This stupid child." She kicked the end of her bed, though she knew it was childish. Remorse overcame her, and she patted her stomach, her own apology to the child. "I need something to do." She cried.

Meg threaded her needle. "You don't want to practice the lute, reading gives you headaches, being read to makes you confused, and all you want to talk about is to complain of your situation. I suppose you could help me embroider, but I don't think you would agree to that."

Christine ignored this sound logic. "There is nothing for me to do. I've had nothing to do since I came here. Noting but modeling for dresses and posing for paintings. I-I-" She fell silent and covered her face again. "I'm sorry Meg." She moaned. "I- I just, it's gotten so much worse since Erik left. And I so wanted to go with him this time."

She had already missed his visit in the summer, because of her pregnancy. Secretly she had hoped that she would have given birth by the time January came again. But here she was. Meg spoke, once again the voice of reason, she always had been during these last weeks, "Yes, and you will go with him next year."

A year. It had been a year since she had seen Mama Valerius. A year since she had seen Mary and the others.

"I miss him." Christine whispered. "I miss him so much my heart aches. If I had something to do it would not be so bad, but my days are empty." She kicked the bed again. "And now I'm complaining again."

She remembered watching him ride away, missing him as he led the group. Missing his reassuring kisses. The night before, they had laid together in the darkness of his room, and she had begged him. "Is there any other way? Could you not just depend on their letters and word?"

Here he had clung to her, and he sounded near tears as he told her that it was best he go in person. He had to go.

The days were long and listless without him. The weather was poor, grey and sprinkling of rain. Christine was not allowed outside, not even for a walk around the castle. Not even with Meg and a dozen servants behind. Three weeks of laying in bed until she felt like screaming for something to do.

Then she remembered the weight on her stomach, the little life inside, and she would still herself.

She stilled herself now.

"Nine months. Sometimes I wish I could have given birth a month ago, and have all this over with." Christine huffed.

"Mama always said the worst part is during the birth."

"But then you know it's almost over. Rather than waiting and waiting and waiting."

Meg raised her eyebrows, but continued working on her piece.

"After I pass this seam, I shall work on your gown again. The hem came back ripped out," she tutted, "They are so rough with your clothes." But she avoided Christine's eyes. The unnamed blame filled the stuffy air.

"Give it here." Christine said, sitting up. "I may as well have something to do."

* * *

It was almost sunset before Erik came. Christine waited, sitting with her swollen belly in the Solar. She was not allowed in the cold courtyard to wait, but her heart fluttered when she saw his horse ride through the gate.

Carefully, she pulled herself to her feet and paced the room, relishing in the movement. Meg had made her promise that she would not leave her seat while she stood with her mother, but Christine broke it with glee.

She thought and laughed at their ridiculous promotions while she walked. Her fingers traced the painting on the whitewashed wall. It was ridiculous the precautions they took, absolute bed rest, washing two times a week. The herbs she had to consume once a day, Lady Giry scanned her every meal for potential dangers. Granted, it was nice to have the sand filled cakes and spoiled apples sent back, but Christine was smart enough to not eat them.

Lady Giry did not believe, as many noble women believed, that if you saw an animal while pregnant, your child would be cursed with it's form. It was a silly superstitious belief that was only upheld by most noble women's lack of contact with animals.

Yes, many saw the dogs their husbands had for hunting. And there was not a noble lady Christine had heard of that could not ride. But they did not walk among cattle every day, nor feed a pig or milk a cow. They did not spend long hours brushing horses and saddling them. These were all things that common folk did, and yet their children were born as young healthy babies. And yet many women believed that if you saw your husband's dog while carrying a babe, it would be a pup. Christine shook her head in amusement at the thought.

Though Meg and Lady Giry were not taken in by this nonsense, they certainly believed other ones, and Christine was at the mercy of their careful ways.

Christine went to the window again, looking out into the courtyard, she saw Erik swinging down from his horse. His cloak was lightly peppered white from the snow. He was addressing Nadir, and then the servants broke ranks, each going their own way.

She went to the chair in front of the fireplace, her heart thumping and jumping.

Quick footsteps echoed down the stone hallway, his boots thumping against the stone floor.

The door burst open, and Christine greeted Erik with open arms and a large smile.

Soon she was tucked into his arms, her head against his neck. His fingers, colder than usual from being out into the winter air, rubbed her back while holding her close.

"It was good that I went." He murmured.

"How could it have been," Christine joked, "when you had to leave me behind?"

He chuckled. "Well, the overseer over the weavers, he made a grave error in the storeroom for the woven wool, nearly a quarter of the wool bolts were made unsellable."

Christine gasped, pushing him away to gasp, "No!"

He shrugged, then went to pull her close again. "I will sell it at a large discount to the surrounding people. it is not a complete loss."

"And you spent so much on my wardrobe..." Christine mourned, suddenly ashamed of the red gold silk in her bedroom.

"It will cover that, don't fear." Erik assured her. "I made sure of that."

Christine shook her head. "What was his mistake?"

"He thought to save costs by hiring a cheap carpenter to repair the roof, where it was wearing thin. He did not check to see if it was secure, and did not tour the building often." Erik set his jaw against her headcloth. "I gave him strict instructions, and I will be sending Nadir in three months time to see he has kept them. If he does not, I will have to let him go."

Christine shook her head. "Foolish man. The water spoiled the wool?"

"Yes, after last month's downpour, I'm afraid much of it has grown mold." Erik shook his head. "I set them to wash what they could, but much of it is spoiled. Now do you see why I must go on these trips?"

"I'm afraid I will ever be biased against them until I can finally experience them myself." Christine murmured, reaching up to kiss him at the edge of his mask.

* * *

The first contraction took Christine's breath away, leaving her gasping and wincing pain. It pulled her from the light sleep she had drifted into. Her white knuckles made whiter by moonlight gripped the edge of the bed. She groaned, trying to tell Meg.

"... Christine?"

And then the pain passed. Christine shivered, swallowing in the dark.

"I think the baby is coming." She whispered hoarsely. "Oh, oh I didn't expect it to hurt that much. Oh, dear Mother Mary…"

She heard Meg shifting. "I'll go get Mother, she knows where the midwife is sleeping."

Christine nodded slowly, carefully she shifted in the bed. She had assisted in births before, going and fetching, ever since she was old enough to walk. She knew that another contraction would not come until after Meg had reached Madame Giry.

Sure enough, another contraction had not come when Lady Giry in a simple gown came in, followed by the midwife.

The midwife was about to look at Christine when another contraction started. Christine choked, holding back all the pain, save for a whimper that escaped past her lips. A moment later, it passed, and Christine sighed in relief.

Around her, they were lighting several candles to work by.

"Should I wake His Grace?" Meg asked quietly, "I wouldn't let him in," she cried at the glares from Giry and the midwife, "I'd like to know if my child was being born."

"We'll see." Lady Giry called. "For now, I want you to get-" Here she listed off the names of several servant women. "We'll need their help."

Meg ran from the room, carrying a candle after her.

"What do... I do?" Christine joked, panting from the pain.

The midwife patted her hand. "For now, take deep breaths, and bear the pain."

Christine nodded, gritting her teeth as another wave of pain came.

**He he. Whoops. I wrote out half this chapter, then ran out of what to say. Then I forgot about it for the next two months. *ducks the tossed plate* Then I realized my solution was simple and finished it off. The next chapter I have all planned out, so that should be coming out way sooner than this last one took.**

**Hope you all enjoyed. What do you think, boy or girl? ;)**

**Reviews make authors happy! :)**


	23. Chapter 23

Erik paced in the solar room, Nadir sat in a nearby chair, nearly asleep on his hand. Foolish man didn't have a blasted thing to worry about.

Another low moan came from her bedroom, and Erik flinched, arm brushing for a sword that wasn't there.

He still remembered how earnest, how worried she had been that she wouldn't be able to have children for them. Erik hadn't worried much, women had children. Some of the babies died but others lived, one simply had to take things as they came.

But that was before he had spent months waiting for this one. Had put his hand on Christine's stomach to feel it's kick. To feel his own child.

Now he worried. And so he paced.

"How long?" He snapped at Nadir. He flinched and looked blearily at the notched burning candle.

"Three hours since we woke up."

"How long before that?"

"Meg says it started an hour after bed."

Erik paused, calculating. "Twelve hours of this, this… pain." He slumped, fists clenching as he heard a moan from the door.

Nadir shrugged. "Antoinette was in labor with our youngest for a day and a half. These things take time."

Yes. Time. Patience. Erik began his pacing again. He paused by Christine's door, over the heavy breathing of his wife, he heard the women whispering. They were whispering by the door.

"She's…. Well… need… hopefully we can..."

The door flew open and Erik jumped back into his pacing. One of the maid servants walked out, lifting her skirts to her ankles so that she might run down the hall.

"How is she doing?" Asked Erik. "Is she-" The girl turned to shrug and then ran on. Erik slammed his hand against the wall and hissed at the sting it brought.

"Give it up Erik." Called Nadir. "Birthing is a women's secret, they never so much as let the man have a wink of what is happening until it's over."

Erik slumped in his chair, his hand ran through his hair. "And what if there is trouble?"

"Don't get in the way, let them handle it. Antoinette is practically a midwife herself, she's helped birth so many babies, and our midwife is particularly good." Nadir shrugged. "I've helped horses give birth, but I wouldn't trust myself with something like my own wife and child." Then he settled back into his sleepy pose. "You should get dressed Erik, you'll feel better."

Erik sank father into his chair, it groaned in protest. "Perhaps."

A long scream of pain filled the room, Christine's beautiful voice twisted into pain and agony. Erik jolted up as if there was a fire in his chair, the door of her room filled his vision. In his mind's eyes he saw soldiers fighting, screaming as they fell. He could not save them, he had sent them to their deaths. Still, he rushed forward to fight for them.

Hands grasped his shoulders, holding him back, he threw them aside. Only to be held back again. There were more hands, and he could not push them back, he could not save her. He had to save her!

But he could fight away from those struggling hands. He had no sword to cut them down.

"Erik, Erik-" Nadir's voice called.

He could not save her.

And then he was wet, wet and cold. Water dripping down the inside of his mask, he blinked the liquid from his eyes and saw Nadir holding a bucket.

"Wha-"

"You… you had a memory again." Nadir told him, setting down the bucket. "I needed to shock you enough to bring you out of it."

Erik looked around him, seeing three of his own guards holding his arms and waist. "I apologize." He said slowly, "I am myself again."

The soldiers glanced to Naidr, who nodded, and they released him.

"Listen." Nadir clapped Erik on the back. "Go change, I'll get your horse. We're going riding."

"But Christine-"

"Has every woman in the castle at her beck and call. She will be fine." Nadir assured him. "You are far too worked up. You haven't had a memory in years, let's not get them started again."

* * *

"How is she doing?"

The poor maid servant looked terrified to see Erik looking down at her. He was as tense as ever, something even the four hour ride could not fix. She edged to the side, glancing to the stairway behind him that offered freedom.

His arm shot out the stop the doorway.

"Tell me, how is _my wife_ fairing?" He hissed, hunching lower.

She shrank back. "Not well." She muttered, looking down to her leather shoes poking out from her dress.

Erik choked, as badly as if he had taken a punch to the stomach. "What- what appears..."

"We're… we're having trouble bringing out the child." The girl said slowly. "We're trying our best, but…"

"Go." Erik choked. "Go to her, now." And he freed the way for her. The girl scuttled up the stairs.

Nadir, who had watched the whole encounter watched her go. "Was that really necessary?"

Erik shrugged. "She never would have told me otherwise." Then he slumped against the wall. "Christine…"

Nadir placed a hand on Erik's shoulder. "I am sorry. We can only pray."

Erik snorted, heading up the stairs.

"Erik, she is strong. It is likely she will survive."

"They both will."

"If it is going as the girl says-"

"They both will survive. I will have a child and she will hold it in her arms and love it as she-" Erik choked. "-as she deserves." The solar room held Lady Giry, who was talking with the midwife quietly. When they both saw Erik they moved away into the Giry's room.

Nadir watched them, his eyes filled with worry. "Erik, I don't think we can assume-"

Erik's glare silenced him, though his eyes portrayed all his worry.

"You worry as much as your wife." Erik told him. "Keeping my wife cooped up in a room for two months. You fuss too much."

Nadir pursed his lips, sitting in his old chair.

Erik resumed pacing.

Lady Giry and the midwife returned to the room. The sun from the window crept across the carpeted floor, Erik noted it's movement across the room as he paced.

"Maybe you should go down and start training. I'll bet some of the knights are out there, waiting for you. You can't go on lik-"

A girl, carrying a bundle of blooden clothes ran from the room. Lady Giry stepped out after her, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Your Grace?" She said in a low, serious voice. "Your wife needs you."

Erik nearly pushed back Lady Giry in his excitement, then froze.

His lovely Christine. His lovely, perfect Christine, lay in the bed, pale and haggard. Her eyes gazed at nothing in particular. She almost looked dead.

"Christine, the baby?" Erik prompted, he reached out to hold her hand. She always did that when he was upset, perhaps it would help her.

She jerked her hand away the moment he touched it. At once her eyes were sharp and acute in their pain, a tear rolled down her cheek. "Dead."

"Christine…"

"Why did you marry me?" She whispered, her voice hoarse and harsh. "Why do you want me? I am a common spinster girl with no dowry, no title to my name, no great beauty to hide behind. I have only been an inconvenience to you. You have to spend a fortune on me, with dresses and jewels that any noble woman should have had from the beginning. A woman who was trained to run a castle and be a noble lady." She laughed. "I don't even have the courage to take charge of my own castle. I'm a coward, hiding behind Lady Giry."

The maidservants hovering around the edges of the room looked downward, as if ashamed.

"Do- do you love me?" Erik whispered. "Did you not want to marry me?"

"Of course I love you." She spat. "Intelligence, wit, kindness, I have never-" Here she choked. "-I have never loved anyone, anything more. You deserve more. More than what I have. A woman who can provide an heir. Not a stillborn girl."

Erik watched her slowly turn away from him. "I- I adore you, Christine." He said slowly. "I would have no other woman by my side, I love you-"

"But why, why!?" Christine spun on him, her voice cracking as she shouted. "Why do you love me? What could I have possibly done to earn it? I can't provide you with anything you need. Stability in your court, love among your servants, an heir. None of it!" She screamed. "Are you blind, do you not see me pushing around the food on my plate, for it has been spoiled? Do you not see me heming my clothes again and again, for they were ripped out during washing? Have you seen me converse with any woman in the court other than Meg and Lady Giry? They hate me, they all hate me! Your love, however strong, is not enough. You cannot simply love this away, you need- you need someone more than I. Someone who is patient who can lay still long enough to not birth a stillborn." She collapsed against her pillow. "I was a fool to accept your proposal. A selfish fool. I have trapped you in a marriage where I am naught but a burden." Her fury was spent, she looked away, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Erik stared, then he turned to look at the maidservants in the room.

"Don't reprimand them, Erik." Christine murmured. "They think I seduced you, then bound you to me with your honor, of course they hate me."

Always, always thinking of others. Always defending them, making excuses for them. Always, his wife did such things.

"Leave." He commanded, and they all fled the room, only the midwife remained. She gave Erik a stern look, then shuffled out.

"I will not have you say such things." Erik whispered the moment the door shut. "I will not have my own wife so unwelcome in your own home."

"You cannot force them to love me." Was the tired reply.

Erik turned on his feet, watching his pale, thin wife. "I see I have been neglecting you in many ways."

She shook her head, she pushed her damp, limp hair from her face. "No, this isn't your fault. It is mine alone. I apologize, I should not have spoken. I will manage. I will… I will be alright. I just need time." She smiled sweetly up at him. "Truly, I'm not so unhappy as that."

She covered her pain well. Too well. He suddenly realized how rarely he saw it.

How often had she brought her complaints out of him, forced him to confess his dilemmas, and then vanquish them in the same moment?

What a fool he was to think that she did not have any of her own.

His lips trailed down her arm as he spoke. "What do you need, little wife." He begged between kisses.

"Erik, really-"

He didn't let her finish. "Let me help you. What can I do?" He stared at her with desperate eyes.

She was silent, staring off at the wall, then suddenly she whispered. "I want to be a duchess, properly. To be lady of this castle, properly. I- I want to run it on my own." Then she smiled a little. "I know I could win them over then, this has only held out so long because I have been hiding behind Lady Giry. I really have been, I'm too afraid to ask her to step down."

Erik stared. "But of course, I only thought, with it being so large..."

Christine waved her free hand. "Oh, don't worry about that. I have long become used to its size. But they need to see leadership from me." Christine gazed at him. How quickly she was recovering! "They need to see I am worthy of their respect. I can do it, if I am the lady of the castle."

"Of course, I will ask her to step down as soon-"

"No, I will do it myself." Christine told him. "It will be better that way. I can do it, now that I know you approve."

Erik nodded. "Of course, what else?"

"I… I don't know." She said finally. "I think that is the crux of it."

"Promise me you will tell me any other concerns you might have." Erik said. "Promise me."

Her voice was faint, but firm. "I promise."

Erik held her hand for a few moments.

Then suddenly a sharp gasp filled the room, tears were streaming down her cheeks again.  
"Oh, Erik." Christine whispered. "Oh, Erik. The baby, the baby…" her voice broke and she turned to him, her arms opening for someone to cling to.

Erik tried to hold her as she held him. Her face buried itself in his shoulder as she sobbed. Her shoulders shaking with the effort.

Erik rubbed her back as she did with him, and then, struggling not to cry himself, sang a lullaby he had heard as a child.

It seemed to calm her somewhat.

* * *

"Where is the baby?" Erik snapped, strolling out from Christine's room.

The midwife, sitting in a chair next to Nadir sat up. "And how is her Grace?" She demanded.

"Sleeping." Erik turned to her. "Where did you send the baby's body?"

"I sent the girl to dispose of it, you couldn't retrieve it now."

Erik's hands fisted. "If you birth us another stillborn, we will bury the body. You will act accordingly."

The midwife stared. "I- very well."

Erik swept down the stairway. He walked to the chapel, pushing open the doors.

The priest entered the hall. "Yes?"

"I need to make an addition to the family records." Erik told him.

The raised his eyebrows. "Ah, boy or girl?"

"Girl."

"I will fetch the papers. Her name?"

"Abigail." Erik said. "She passed away today."

The priest stopped. "A stillborn?"

"Yes."

He turned. "Ah, well. Stillborns do not require records. We can simply-"

"We will record her." Erik snapped. "We will remember her. And her name was Abigail."

The priest shook his head. "I- very well."

**I uh, I have nothing to say for myself. I hope... you cried? at this chapter? I hope this doesn't come off as too cheesy or emotional, I want it too be a really emotional and important scene.**

**Reviews make authors happy. :)**


	24. Chapter 24

The world was gray.

It mattered not that Erik had smoothed the wall, and had painters draw flowers and stones and scenes in every color that nature allowed. It's color and liveliness was lost to her, even as her eyes followed the path of the sweeping vines.

It mattered not. Very little seemed to.

Erik was worried, it took all her energy to put up a cheerful front to him. Meg, she suspected, updated him on how she was really doing. She hoped they thought she was happier when she was with him, rather than more determined to hide her sadness.

Christine should have been happy. At last he knew her grievances. Though there came very few from the servants these days. Her glaring, barely sheathed tongued servants were replaced by a group of bobbing, guilt ridden girls. Her hems came back still sewn, her food was given particular care, filled with spices and delicious foods that might temp her. Soon, she would run the castle as she should. Soon, all her problems would be gone.

It mattered not.

It couldn't matter when the gray pushed at her, suffocating every emotion. It was terrifying. And yet, it was familiar. She had felt the same way when her father died.

They always died. They were always taken from when she found happiness and the strength to push back the gray, it was all taken. Everyone. her father, Lady Valerius, the baby. Abigail. Christine hid her face in her hand to hold back a sob. Dear Erik, she wished he had not named the baby. Miscarriages were best forgotten. Everyone knew this. Everyone-

When would it take Erik? When would he leave her alone to defend her right to the estate from local lords. What would she do? What would she do?

Christine wished for something other than gray.

She knew, logically, that with time the grayness would pass. That she would be able to feel, to want, to laugh again. But the grayness prevented her heart from believing it.

There was a quiet knock at the door, and Meg entered, carrying a tray of oatmeal, smelling of spices. Cooked fish sat to the side, equally tempting.

Food that the baby would never know. The baby that Christine had killed.

Meg set the tray next to Christine on a table, she rolled away, hiding her face in her pillow.

"You must eat." Meg told her. "You must gain back your strength."

"For what?"

Meg's voice tinged with frustration. "Isn't a month long enough to mourn an unborn child?"

"No."

"Well, how are you going to get another if you keep on like this? Sometimes, sometimes the first one just doesn't catch. Next time-"

The thought of a next time made Christine whimper with fear.

"Christine-"

"Go away."

Meg's face reddened. "You're not the only woman to have a stillborn. My mother had two. Why are you any different?"

"I know I'm not the only woman to have a stillborn." Christine whispered. "I've helped many births. Many died."

"Well then, what makes you think you can lay around in bed and mourn?" Meg snapped. "What makes you so special?"

Christine shook her head. "I can't get up. I'm too tired to get up."

"We are all tired Christine." Meg nearly shouted. Christine curled up, as if the words were physical blows. "I've sat through months and months of you complaining and kicking your bed. You would have done anything to get out then, now you never want to leave?"

"I wanted to go with my baby."

"So you don't get to. So what? Get up, keep going. It's what the rest of us do, why can't you?"

Christine didn't answer.

"You want to know what my mother did after her miscarriage? She cried, then she got up and kept going. Why can't you? Oh-" Meg threw her hands up. "But you're too tired. You're too lazy and selfish to get up and do something useful for once-"

"Marguerite." The word cut through the room like a knife.

Meg froze, looking to her mother, guilt filling her eyes.

"You will go." Lady Giry said, standing as tall and noble as a queen. More noble than Christine ever would be. "We will discuss your punishment later."

Meg stalked out of the room.

Lady Giry watched her go. "She does not understand pain." She murmured. "She has had far too little of it in her life."

"She's right." Christine murmured. "I should stop mourning…"

"Are you really mourning the child?" Lady Giry said, arching an eyebrow high.

The gray around her seemed to press down, leaving the bed seemed all the more daunting. Out there, responsibilities, a castle to run, servants to face, her failure. The sympathetic faces, the apologies on the servant's lips. She couldn't face them. Not with that gray pressing down.

"No."

"Then why do you lay there?"

How could she describe it? The pressure, the death that came every time she allowed herself happiness. The servants. The world. The vast open sky that the baby would never see. The love that Erik showed it, and knowing that she might never be able to give him what he needed…

"I don't know."

"Christine… are you considering… well. Are you thinking of suicide?"

"I'm too tired to try that Lady Giry." Christine said. "Though I still think that Erik should have chosen some nice young noble woman to marry. Not me. Perhaps he would, if I was gone."

Lady Giry walked across the room and sat on the edge of Christine's bed. "He loves you, you know. More than anything. He has changed ever since you married him. He is gentler, happier. You should see his eyes when he looks at you. It is as if he is staring at heaven itself. I cannot think of any other woman making him so happy."

"I know he loves me. It would be easier if he didn't."

"Really?"

Christine rolled away. "Well, at least I wouldn't mind disappointing him, if he didn't love me."

"Disappoint him?" Lady Giry's voice filled with shock. "Darling, do you really think you disappoint him?"

"He needs a son." Christine murmured, pulling the blankets up to her chest. "It was why he married me. It was why I pushed so hard for us… he has given me so much. This… this is the only thing of worth I can give in return."

"And a wife who loves him has no worth?"

"I- you know what I mean."

Lady Giry's voice was gentle, but firm. "Your worth is not defined by the children you bear Christine."

Christine released a hiccup, a tear rolling down her face. "But I wanted to bear him a son. I dreamt of it for months, it was what kept me sane. I wanted to hold the baby in my arms and give it to him. I wanted- I wanted him to know I could provide an heir."

"He does not want an heir, child. Yes, it would be nice, but truly, he just wants you to be happy."

"But _I _wanted to give him what he needed!"

"And you might."

Chistrine sat up, turning to Lady Giry with tears streaming from her eyes. "But what if I can't? What if I just kill baby after baby, and he never has a son to raise?"

Lady Giry smiled, sadness etched into her eyes. "And that may be. You may never bear him a son."

The words hit Christine like a wall. It was a truth she had not wanted to accept. Suddenly the empty comfort of the servants flew from her fingers and she burst into tears. "I-I-" she gasped for breath, leaning back against the headboard. "W-what do do I do then?"

"Well, that is your decision. I cannot recommend, however, that you stay in this bed." Lady Giry stood. "Simply remember this. Life moves on. In all the wars, the illness, the tragedies and the triumphs as well. Life always moves on. There is always another day to grasp."

Lady Giry left the room, the door shutting behind her with a quiet thump.

Christine fell back down against the mattress, staring up at the vines on the ceiling once more. Just has she had before. Just as she had been doing for months.

Suddenly she threw back her covers, shivering at the sudden cold. February was not a warm month, not yet. She laid there, staring up at the painting, not allowing herself the comfort of crawling under the covers to hide from the gray.

Slowly, she slid one foot to the floor, shuddering at the cold stone. The other foot followed nonetheless.

Step by step, she pressed against the gray, trembling and shaking in her thin linen shift.

Finally, she pushed open the door to the lavatory, the dresses hung up. She ran through the many clothes, and finally settled on her wedding dress. She hadn't worn it in almost a year.

She pulled the dress over her head. It was a poor woman's dress. Loose, mostly squares, with little regard for wasting fabric on frivolous darts and tucks. It still fit her, despite the very noticeable bump that was still there even a month after the pregnancy.

Christine then sat on the edge of the toilette and opened a small chest that held her hose. She pulled this on over her feet, tying them firmly at the top. Then, she put on her shoes. Her cut leather shoes no longer fit her swollen feet, but her old wooden shoes fit just fine.

Finally, she re-braided her hair, then wound and pinned it. A head cloth soon followed. Christine tucked a few stray curls under the linen.

She sat, dressed, in her bathroom. She shuffled back into her room, not allowing herself to go back into bed. Instead, she sat on a stool, and looked out to watch the sea.

She should go riding, she decided. After all, she could go by herself again. There was no baby to worry about.

But going down those stairs, going into the stable and having stable boys watch her. Going out into the vast world where everything moved on. Where a world lived under a blue sky was too much.

Maybe she would go riding tomorrow. Today... today she had grasped as best she could.

**Woo! Lady Giry for the win.**

**Don't be TOO mad with Meg. She's been couped up in one room with a hormonal pregnant woman for three months. That can get a little grating after a while. She does think that Christine should move on, but one's tact tends to be poor when you are angry.**

**Christine isn't keeping her side of the deal... *wiggles eyebrows*.**

**Reviews make authors happy. :)**


	25. Chapter 25

Antoinette had to give it to the girl, it took her time to recover from sadness, but once she did, there was very little that could stop her. Slowly the girl forced herself out of the depressive state she had been.

Antoinette had been very surprised to find Christine dressed when she had brought in her dinner. (Meg being confined to her room while Antoinette decided a punishment.) True, the clothes were simple, peasants clothing. But she was dressed, all the same.

She had stared down at the platter of food that Lady Giry brought her, then slowly picked up her knife and spoon and began to eat the spiced chicken drizzled with sauce.

Antoinette had watched her as she went around the room, doing the small tasks that Meg would do.

Christine managed half the chicken, and nearly three quarters of the stew and dark bread that she seemed so fond of. Then her hands went to her lap, and she requested that the food would be taken away.

The next day the maid that had brought Christine breakfast reported that she had not been dressed, and Antoinette's heart sank. But when lunch was brought she had put on clothes.

Nadir fretted just as much about Erik, who apparently had been even more withdrawn and sullen since the death of the child.

The girl, Abigail. Antoinette didn't approve of naming still borns, but one didn't argue with the Duke of the Black Lands.

And then there was Meg. Still confined to her room, Antoinette didn't know what had come over Meg, or what to do about it. She had never made such an infraction before, and yet this one was so severe, Antoinette would have given five lashes to anyone else.

And yet Meg was already sorrowful, having cried her way through the night and begging to be allowed to apologize the next morning. Her guilt was sincere, Antoinette thought she knew her daughter well enough for that, but that did not exclude one from punishment.

Nadir was undecided as well. Antoinette suspected that if it had been one of the boys, he would have suggested the lashes right in that moment. But with his precious daughter…

"Isn't it a little harsh?" He would venture meekly.

"She's sturdy enough. Not some little slip of a girl that would perish at the touch of a whip." Antoinette had spat back.

And then he had taken her into her arms, silly man, his arms rubbing her back in comfort. He always seemed to know what she needed. They both knew that if it had been any other Lord, any other lady, Meg would have been cast into prison. Perhaps for the rest of her life. They were lucky they had such kind masters who could forgive such an outburst.

Eventually, they decided to dock her pay for the time being, as well as giving her the job of cleaning the entrails from around the castle.

When Antoinette related this news to Christine the next morning, she shrugged.

"Do what you will." She said, stirring her bowl of oatmeal slowly. "I don't want to think of it."

"She's very sorry for what you did, you know." Antoinette said slowly. "She wants you to know that she apologizes."

Christine nodded. "It's alright, she has been good to me. I forgive her." She gave a short laugh. "In a way, it is what broke me out of my sorrow. Without her, you might have not spoken to me."

"No one deserves to be woken in such a rude and cruel way." Antoinette said firmly. "Now, do you want my help getting dressed?"

Christine looked up? "Would you? I- I simply don't have the energy to put on my better clothes."

"Or to lace your shoes?" Antoinette questioned.

"They no longer fit." Admitted Christine. "My wooden ones do, I used to stuff them before putting them on, they were second hand." She said.

Antoinette raised an eyebrow, and went into the lavatory, carefully she took an under dress and an over dress that she knew had been altered to fit Christine. She also pulled out a pair of hose.

While searching in a trunk for a headcloth, she came across the fine silk that His Grace had bought Christine, it's golden threads still glimmering as ever against the red.

Antoinette pushed it under the head clothes again. The silk would not be used, Christine would not be going to court that year.

Antoinette spoke of small pieces of news about the outside castle while she helped Christine dress, combed her hair and helped braid the wild stuff so that the head cloth could be pinned neatly into place.

Afterwards, Christine sat in her chair, thanked her and looked out the window in the sea.

The next day, Antoinette helped her dress again after breakfast. When they finished, Christine mused that she should walk around the grounds that day.

She did not accomplish that until two days after that. But then she went walking every afternoon, before sitting down for lunch. She commented how three months of bedrest had greatly weakened her.

A week after that, Meg was allowed to return to her original position. She cried as she begged forgiveness from Christine. Antoinette hadn't told her she had already been forgiven, it would be better if Christine said it.

Christine forgave her. Of course she did.

The next day, when Lady Giry brought out her lunch, she could not find Christine. Some inquiry found that she had gone riding with Meg.

When she returned, both her and her horse were sweating and panting. Meg rode behind her, in an only slightly less worse state.

Christine passed the horse along to the stable boy and headed to the bath house. Lady Giry was already hastening for servants to heat water for her Grace, Meg not far behind her.

She did not emerge from her bed the next morning. Her legs ached from the ride, and she could barely walk. Instead, she worked at her embroidery and listened to Meg reading to her. When she could bear to ride, she went out again, only to spend three more days in bed, her legs rebelling with much exercise.

It was then Lady Giry decided to pay Christine another visit. "I know what I said, Christine." She warned her. "But you mustn't push yourself so hard."

Christine shrugged. "I like riding, I like the wind in my face. It makes the pain easier."

Lady Giry frowned. "I wouldn't recommend riding for so long. Perhaps we ought to set a time limit?"

Meg, who sat in the corner nodded. "I think so as well, at least until she recovers. Perhaps we ought to set it for an hour a day? I think that would allow her the exercise she needs, but would not strain her."

Lady Giry nodded, then turned to Christine. "Is this reasonable to you?"

Christine shrugged again. "I suppose."

"I expect Meg to manage this." Lady Giry said simply, nodding to Christine.

This worked tolerably well, though Meg often struggled to keep up with Christine, wildly flailing arms and pointing towards the castle got the point across.

The hour rides worked well, and after three or so weeks, they allowed her to ride longer. Soon, she was riding as long as she could before the birth.

This came just in time for spring, green grass peaking between the brown. Tiny sprigs of flowers bloomed between the dark rocks of the Black Lands. Lady Giry ordered Meg to pick them by the dozens and to put them all over Christine's room.

One afternoon, after a long ride home, His Grace picked a batch of lilies for Christine. Her eyes lit up and glittered with tears. But she only pressed kisses against Erik's jawline when he tried to comfort her.

This comforted Lady Giry, for she wasn't quite sure how they had been getting on. She knew they took dinner together, rather than breakfast as they did before. But other than that she had been in the dark about their relationship.

She was glad they seemed to be healing as well.

Not long after that, they began taking dinner with the rest of the court again. Now Lady Giry was able to observe them, and she noticed the little signs of love between them that she had seen before. His Grace carefully serving Christine the finest of portions, calling servants to be sure her glass was never empty. In return Christine gave him gentle touches on his hand and knowing looks.

Meg noted that they were sharing beds again. The news spread throughout the castle, hope spreading for a new child, an heir.

Lady Giry doubt His Grace and Christine had jumped to that, but it was certainly a good sign in more ways than one.

For one, the servants no longer hated Christine. Many of them had been in the room during her outburst, and their rumors had thoroughly overturned the raging tales of a scheming harlot. In addition, he then publicly said that he had chosen her because he loved her, because she was good and kind, and that she had been an excellent stand in mistress of the Valerious household. These things combined with the threat that whosoever tormented his wife again would have their hand cut off, shut down any last stragglers determined to bully her. That had been done the day after the birth of the child.

It was lucky Christine had not heard that, though no doubt she felt its effects.

And so Lady Giry continued in the management of the castle, pleased with the growth and recovery of its occupants. Until one day in May, when Christine asked very specially to meet with Lady Giry in private.

**Aaaaaaand that's a wrap. I originally intended to do more chapters on Christine's recovery, but that just bogged stuff down too much. I do believe we are now tilting towards the other half of the book. In fact, I do believe we only have one last major conflict to overcome after the next chapter. (Wonder what those are going to entail? *wiggles eyebrows* Any guesses?)**

**Hopefully this recovery felt realistic. Lemme know if I botched anything. I always imagined Christine as the type to just keep chugging along, she's a hard worker and she pushes herself and thus recovers pretty steadily. I don't want to set up any false ideas about how long it takes to recover from a miscarriage. I suspect it's a highly individual matter. Luckily for people today, we have stuff like, therapy and drugs to help with crazy after pregnancy hormones. Christine does... not.**

**Anyhoo! Thanks for reading this chapter! Hope ya'lls have a great day!**

**Reviews make authors happy. :)**


	26. Chapter 26

"Your Grace, if there has been any issue with my service, any at all, you only needed to ask…"

Christine sat back, watching Lady Giry with some measure of surprise. She had flustered the woman, if the red cheeks and near babbling were any indications. It was strange, the woman had always seemed unflappable.

Christine waited for a break in the babbling. "There has been no issue with your service. Simply that it is time I took command of my own castle. I intended to come to you before this, but then there was the misscarriage." She waved her hand vaguely. "It's my duty, you know, as Erik's wife to manage the castle."

Despite the recent good behavior of the servants (That had something to do with Erik, if the way he avoided her questions were any indication.), it was still her duty. Besides, while she had the servants obedience, their hearts were still lost to her.

Lady Giry looked at her, her face pale. "I have worked here fifteen years."

"I know." Christine reached across the table to pat the hand of the woman. "You are not being banished, Lady Giry. Erik wants you to replace the leader in his wool industries. He has proven untrustworthy."

Aside from the leaking roof, further checking had proven he had been docking the pay of the workers for his own gain. He would be dismissed the moment Lady Giry arrived, should she accept the calling.

"His wool-" Lady Giry murmured, her hands twisting in her lap. "His fortune. How he made his fortune. He wishes to trust me with that?"

Christine smiled. "Yes."

"What of my husband?" An edge of fear crept in her voice.

"He will go with you. He will handle policing the area." Christinesaid quickly. "Your children, of course, go with you. I hope Meg will stay, but it is up to her."

Lady Giry nodded, her hands clasped in her lap, and she seemed to regain some measure of control over herself. "Yes, of course. And when will this change take place?"

"Erik will announce it tomorrow, I expect within a few weeks."

Lady Giry nodded. "Of course."

Christinenodded. "In addition, I should let you know that your pay will be increased. And that there is a tidy little manor down by the wool production line where you are welcome to stay."

Suddenly, the woman laughed sharply. "I am retiring." She shook her head, still smiling. "Retiring with honor. Alas." She stood. "Does Nadir know yet?"

"I have not told him, but I believe he suspects." Christine admitted.

Lady Giry curtsied. "I will go to him, then. If you would excuse me…?"

Christine blinked, Lady Giry had never asked for permission to leave before. "Y-yes. You may go."

Lady Giry walked out, the door shutting behind her with a thump.

Christine slumped back in her chair, breathing a sigh of relief. Then she stood, shook out her skirts, and went to find her own husband.

Lady Giry left with honor, kisses and hugs from the members of the staff. She left with tears streaking down her cheeks, but a smile lighting her face.

Meg had decided to stay behind with Christine, though that boy that she liked probably also had something to do with it, Christine thought. But no matter the reason, Meg was welcome in her life.

Christine herself had felt her heart grow heavy while watching Lady Giry ride away. And then forgot it promptly in all the work that came with her leaving.

There were dinners to plan for visiting noblemen, castles to clean, stores to access. Harvest would begin soon as fall crept in and Christine would have to help manage the supplies.

Breakfast was her only peace during the day. Curling up to her husband to discuss the troubles of yesterday and the plans of the day before them.

Then was the whirl of dealing with the day, a quick pause for lunch, then off to work again. Her voice grew hoarse, her feet ached and her mind buzzed with all she had done.

There was always something. Erik was hosting a smaller tournament. A stable had collapsed and needed to be rebuilt. Petitioners looking for help, for jobs. Artisans wishing for sponsors. Christine spent two weeks fiercely bargaining with three merchants to buy the supplies they needed for the coming winter. To top it all off she had to manage Meg, who had a tendency to try and sneak away to her knight love. That should have been a full time job in and of itself.

Then it was dark, and she stumbled into bed with Erik, curling up in his arms before starting all over again. She hardly ever slept alone anymore, she had become far too used to being in his arms during her mourning.

Sundays were a relief, a moment to breath and recenter herself. To put herself before God, to promise herself to be better, to not snap so much when her mind was all a spinning.

Then only to be swept up in the work of the week again. A month passed by, two months.

Suddenly it was autumn again, and the large yearly tournament was only a month away. Christine nearly tripped over her own skirt one day, realizing she had been married to Erik for a year and a half. How long it had been! And how very far away Lady Valerious felt. Though the money for a nursemaid and medicines were still faithfully sent twice a year, they felt like numbers in a ledger. Not the Godsend they might have been two years ago. Merely another expense in a long, long line of numbers.

It still made her dizzy to think of how much money she was managing. So much, and if she were to make a mistake… But she hadn't yet. She dearly hoped she never would.

And through it all, there were still moments of love with Erik. A brush of hands as they passed one another in the halls. Quick kisses behind doors. A knowing look across a courtyard. And love, nights of love they spent together. Nights that brought her hope for a child again.

It occurred to Christine one Sunday as she prayed, that she was happy. Not just content. Not just busy, but happy. Happy to be alive. To find joy in the struggle of each day. To laugh and love in Erik's arms. Her heart was filled to bursting, for once all the world felt right.

So much joy, so much happiness. There was only one blight.

Erik would not allow her to move into his room with him.

"But there's no point in me having my own room." Christine protested. "I only use it for storage, it's practically Meg's room now. It's so silly to have separate rooms, an extravagance, really. Please, darling-"

But Erik only shook his head. She knew why. It was the only place he could remove his mask without fear. Even she was careful to knock before she entered. If she moved in with him, it would cut that off.

And then her heart would ache a little, for as much as she loved her husband, for how long she had been married to him, he still wouldn't trust her enough to remove his mask around her.

It was a hurt he had, a deep scar she could not seem to heal.

It mattered not how much she caressed him, loved him, made love to him. It was either darkness, or the mask. It wasn't too terrible to deal with, closing her eyes so he could kiss her. Kissing his jaw rather than his cheek. Waiting for him to put it on before he opened the door to her.

It was more the principle of the matter, than anything else. He had married her, made her his wife till death parted them. She was his wife, his bosom companion, his life. And he wouldn't trust her enough to show her his face.

It wasn't as if she was unused to deformities! She had grown up in a traveling group, for heaven's sake. She had played with one legged children, made friends with those with splotches over their faces. Heavens, one of her favorite pastimes as a child was to sit in the lap of a man with a face burned away and listen to tales of fairies and goblins.

And yes, she had gone into the marriage knowing he would wear. But she had hoped he would soften… that she could convince him. Well, it hadn't happened yet.

But she shouldn't complain. Not when she had so much. Not when she was so blessed with a loving husband, riches and a high position. Every day she was grateful to God for sending Erik to her.

Maybe he just needed more time, Christine simply would have to be patient. Maybe it would take ten years for him to get over this, but she would wait.

Though, come to think of it, there was very little else she could do.

**Guess this story is getting monthly updates now. *shrugs* It IS winding down, though I have NO idea how many more chapters that will take.**

**Also, guessed who watched Jim Henson's Labyrinth for the first time? Guess who I ship? Three tries and the first two don't count. Though I don't think that's hard to guess if you took a casual glance at my favorite stories recently.**

**Soooo now I've fallen down a rabbit hole and am writing a labyrinth fanfcition on the side of this one, though I am NOT going to abandon this one. That's kind of a promise I made to myself I would never do. I HATE it when authors don't finish their fanfictions, (Though a graceful "Listen man, I gotta stop for XYZ and this is what I was planning to do etc" is always appreciated.) I never post a fanfiction until I have a significant amount written and I have a plot mapped out in my head.**

**I'm motivating myself to finish this fanfiction by not allowing myself to post the Labyrinth one until this is done. Lemme know if any of you would be interested in that! **

**In the meantime, thank you everyone for reading and appreciating this story! It's been really fun to research and write, and I'm so glad you're enjoying it. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. **

**Reviews make authors happy. :)**


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